


The Same Eyes in Different People

by RogersBz14



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Charles, BAMF Erik, Bonding, Bullying, Cage Fights, Cameos, Canon - Comics, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik is a Father, Experimentation, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Government, Government Agencies, Government Experimentation, Hurt Erik Lehnsherr, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Maximoff, Hurt/Comfort, Lies, Protective Erik, Takes Place Before During and After the Prequel Triolgy, Teamwork, Torture, Weapon X Project, Whump, X-Men References, bamf everyone really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:59:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 83,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6936514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogersBz14/pseuds/RogersBz14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Washington, DC 1962</p><p>During a simple errand run, Erik runs into Peter Maximoff, an ostracized six year old mutant who lives in a constant state of curiosity, determination, and self-loathing.</p><p>As a unique and powerful bond grows between them, they are unexpectedly forced to confront their pasts, as well as the harsh realities, that not only unite them, but also divide them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 (1962)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> It's been a while :/ I sincerely apologize for the lack of updates!!! Immediately after school, I had to jump right into a full-time job that requires over two hours of transportation to/back the farm. I haven't had enough time to write/update all of my ideas, and it really upsets me.
> 
> That said, I want to thank everyone for their patience and support :D It really means the world, and motivates me to make time to update the other stories!
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

**(Washington DC, 1962)**

“Did you remember your bathing suit?”  
“Mm Hmm.”  
“Did you pack enough sunscreen?”  
“Uh huh.”  
“Did you remember to bring extra underwear?”  
“Yes, mom.”  
“Did you-”  
“Mom!!”  
With a warm smile, Marya Maximoff kneeled down to her son’s eye level before gently adjusting the dodger blue jacket and ruffling the boy’s unique white hair. Her smile grew when saw her son, Peter, try to hide an incoming smile. Lightly chuckling, she suddenly pulled the boy into her arms, sending them both onto the carpet floor. When Marya began to tickle Peter, the boy couldn’t help but squeal with laughter.  
“Mama,” he breathlessly giggled while attempting to push his mother’s hands away from his belly. “St-Stop!”  
After a few more minutes of playing, Marya smiled down at her son before lifting him onto her lap. When Peter met his mother’s gaze, she could easily detect the hesitancy and sadness in his dark brown eyes.  
“Do I have to go to camp?” he asked miserably.  
Marya gently tucked strands of white hair behind the boy’s small ears. “Peter, you’re acting like you’re being sent to prison.” The boy merely shrugged his shoulders, prompting her to pull the small frame into a hug. “You’ll have so much fun at camp,” she whispered, her voice laced with warmth and love. “You’re going to do so many fun things, and meet so many new friends!”  
“Bu-But… what about-”  
“Your sister will be safe with me.” Peter shook his head before directing his dark eyes towards his mother’s stomach, which has grown exponentially these past few months. “The baby will be fine, too. By the time you get back, your new brother or sister will be waiting for you.”  
Peter could feel the corner of his lips tug upwards. “Promise?”  
Marya smiled down before pressing a kiss to the pasty hair. “With all of my heart.”  
Suddenly, the obnoxious and persistent honk of the bus interrupted the beautiful family moment. Peter let out a sigh before tearing himself away from his mother’s embrace. The older woman stood up and carefully guided Peter’s arms through the straps of his large backpack.  
“Be safe, Peter.” When the bottom of her son’s lips began to quiver, she instantly pulled him into a warm embrace. “I promise that this summer will be an unforgettable one.”  
Peter could only nod, unconsciously burying himself deeper into the embrace. “I’m gonna miss you, mama.”  
“We’ll only be apart for six weeks. Until then…” She unwrapped her arms from him and headed towards a small desk that rested in the living room. “If you ever feel homesick, or if you ever want to update me on all of the adventures you’ve been on,” she continued as she made her way back in front of Peter, “just write to me.” She knelt down, gently unclenched Peter’s small hand, and placed a silver ballpoint pen into his hand.  
“Will you write back?”  
“Always.”  
After a few moments of staring at the object, Peter nodded his head before hugging his mother again. “I love you, mama.”  
Marya returned the hug and pressed another kiss to her son, this time on his cheek. “I love you too, Peter.”  
When the honking increased, the pair pulled away from each other. The white-haired boy tucked the pen into his jacket’s pocket before placing his small hand on the bump on his mother’s stomach.  
“Don’t come out until I’m back,” he whispered to his future brother or sister.  
Marya affectionately ruffled the white hair before guiding her son towards the door. When she opened it, a bright yellow school bus, filled with children, was parked right in front of their home. Pushing his desire to run back into his mother’s embrace, Peter slowly strode towards the bus. And then, as if a lightbulb went off, Peter snapped his head back towards his mother.  
“Tell Wanda I said goodbye!”  
“I will,” Marya called back from the doorway. “Goodbye, my love!”  
“Bye mama!!”

As soon as he entered the powerful vehicle, everyone on the bus went dead silent. Their innocence and joy was quickly substituted by judgement and fear. Their eyes continued to alternate between staring at Peter’s outfit… to his white hair. Swallowing the fear and sadness that threatened to spill out of his mouth, Peter slowly trudged through the sea of kids. When he tried to sit next to someone, they quickly placed their knapsack onto the empty seat. Scanning for another empty seat, Peter’s eyes eventually found one that was right next to a young girl with blonde hair and green eyes. Hopeful, he made his way towards the girl and plopped right next to her, a smile spread across his face.  
“Hi,” he began while placing his backpack onto his lap, “my name is-”  
His hopes of making a new friend instantly crumbled when the girl hastily grabbed her own backpack and moved to sit next to another boy, who sat on a bench opposite of Peter’s. With a sad sigh, Peter glanced out the window and saw his mother’s warm smile.  
For a split second, Peter seriously considered running off of the bus and back into his home. He desperately wanted to ditch this camp and spend another summer with his family and the people who’ve already accepted his unnatural looks. He just wanted to feel, and be with people who made him feel, normal. He just wanted to feel accepted…  
When Marya waved to Peter, he pushed down the tears that stung his eyes, and waved back to her.  
For the first time in his entire life… Peter Django Maximoff felt alone.

Not even four minutes into the journey, conversations and rumors about Peter began to fill the bus. From his hair, to his outfit, all the way to his family -- all of the occupants’ attention was directed towards the “weirdo” with the white hair. At first, Peter tried to ignore their insults and questions. But then-  
“Is your hair real?” a little girl asked, her blue eyes scanning the unique white hair.  
Before the boy could reply, another small hand viciously tugged at his locks, eliciting a pained yelp. “Ouch!!! That hurts,” Peter cried out.  
“Woah,” a newer, more masculine voice chimed in, “that’s so weird.”  
Blushing with embarrassment, Peter unconsciously ran his tiny fingers through his locks. “L-Leave me alone,” he muttered miserably.  
“Why isn’t your mom’s hair like yours?” When Peter didn’t respond, the boy conjured up his own theory. “Are you adopted?” No reply. “Did your first mama and papa not love you?”  
At this point, Peter could begin to feel himself crumble. Even though he had friends and family, his unique hair was constantly the source of jokes, insults, and rumors. It was the one -- or rather, a -- flaw that Peter desperately wished he could fix through whatever means necessary..  
“If I were a papa, I wouldn’t want to raise a kid with freakish hair like yours.”  
“If I were a mama, I wouldn’t want to give birth to a spoiled jerk like you!!!” Peter suddenly gritted out, anger now hidden in his newfound voice.  
“Wait, don’t you have a sister? Is she a freak like you, too?.”  
At an unexpectedly alarming speed, Peter impulsively charged at the bully and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket. “Don’t talk about my sister!!!”  
  
Depending on the situation, Peter was often a very vocal being. He could spend hours either talking about the things that interested him -- music, movies, history, and comic books featuring superheroes -- or asking questions about the unknown. However, because of the difference in his looks, Peter would suppress any question or idea he had whenever he was in a public location. His hair already made him stand out in an uncomfortable manner, so he never raised his voice, for it would draw even more unwelcome attention. That said, there was only one exception to this practice: his family. Whenever someone mentioned his mother or sister, in an unflattering or insulting manner, Peter would push all self-consciousness aside and defend them until the opponent grew weary of the boy’s endless  
stream of words.  
  
“Don’t talk about my family ever again!!!”  
“Or what? You’ll run home and cry to your mommy?”  
“Get out of here, freak!” another faceless kid screamed.  
Peter didn’t even have the chance to begin his case, when the entire bus erupted with chants. “FREAK! FREAK! FREAK! FREAK!”  
At one point, the little girl who ditched the seat from earlier threw an apple at him, but Peter’s surprisingly fast reflexes allowed him to catch the fruit, when it was an inch away from the back of his head, before angrily chucking it right back at her. It was her scream of shock, not the humiliating and belittling chants, that final caught the bus driver’s attention.  
“What is going on back there?!”  
“He threw an apple at me!!!”  
“She threw at me first!!!”  
“Did not!!”  
“Did too!!”  
“ENOUGH,” the driver shouted, his voice reverberating around the condensed space. “Kid, apologize to her right now.”  
Peter was in shock. “Wh-What? She threw the apple at me first!!! She started all of this! She should say sorry, not me!!”  
The driver only rolled his eyes at, what he perceived as, the lie. “Stop trying to shift the blame onto others.”  
“I’m not!!”  
“Listen kid, if you’re going to disrupt the peace at our camp, then-”  
“BUT I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING,” Peter angrily shouted back, hints of hurt laced in his voice. “They asked those mean questions, insulted my family, called me a freak, and PULLED my hair!! Why should I be punished for something I didn’t do!!”  
For the first time in the entire drive, the driver looked back and stared at Peter. However, when his eyes moved towards Peter’s hair, he raised his eyebrow.  
“Boy, you really do have some freakish hair.”  
Tired of being humiliated, Peter hastily grabbed his backpack before storming towards the bus doors. “I want to go back home,” he demanded.  
To be perfectly honest, Peter was expecting and hoping that the bus driver, whom he realized was a camp counselor, would put up some kind of resistance. He wanted someone, anyone, to defend him… to fight for him. However, much to his disappointment, the older man pulled the bus over to the corner of the street and opened the door.  
“Have a good summer, kid.”  
Before Peter could reply, he noticed the attendance list from the corner of his eye. He quickly scanned the document and realized that-  
“Wh-Why isn’t my name on the attendance list?” When the counselor didn’t reply, the realization his Peter hard. “You… didn’t want me here either.” And then, a wave of anger surged through him. “My mom paid for this, but you’re kicking me out, then give the money back to her!!!”  
“Kid, get off of the bus before-”  
“You scammed my mom! Give me back her money!!!”  
Everyone on the bus was taken aback by the boy’s newfound voice. There was no wavering or softness in his tone, only anger and determination. After staring at the kid for a few seconds, the counselor reached into his back pocket, took out his wallet, and rudely threw two hundred dollar directly at Peter’s face.  
“Now scram, freak. Next time, your mother should enroll you in circus camp. At least that hair of yours makes you look normal amongst the sea of other freaks.”  
When all the children began to laugh at him, Peter’s face instantly turned red with embarrassment and shame. He hastily stuffed the money into his coat pocket before turning towards the exit. He didn’t even take one step, when he unexpectedly felt a pair of small yet vicious hands roughly shove him out of the bus, causing him to tumble onto the pavement below. By the time his brain registered what had happened, the bus had already taken off into the distance.  
Finally alone -- away from all of the persecution and humiliation --, Peter buried his face into his knees and began to cry.

He didn’t know how long he’d sat on the curb and cried his heart out -- seconds, minutes, hours, days. Eventually, however, the drop in temperature harshly freed him from pain in his heart. Wiping away some remaining snot and tears, Peter slowly stood up and buttoned up his jacket, which now had dirt stains on the left elbow. Then, his brain clicked.  
_‘Wait a second… I’m right outside of the capital!’_ Peter felt his spirits rise exponentially. _‘I can finally explore the city… alone!!’  
_ Without a second thought, Peter threw his backpack over his shoulders before running towards the heart of Washington, DC.

Considering that this was the first time first time he was alone in a major setting, Peter was fascinated by the diverse faces and places on every street and road. The car models, the unique gift shops, the melting pot of individuals -- the new environment was exhilarating. However, as he made his way deeper into the city, he could detect looks of curiosity and intolerance being directed towards him; more specifically, his white hair. Feeling heat appear on his cheeks, once again, Peter instinctively reached for his black baker boy hat and slapped it onto his head, hastily tucking in as much of his pasty hair as possible. Despite the judgmental looks, the boy continued to walk down the streets of the capital, taking in everything the urban environment had to offer. The more active and chaotic environment was, he’ll admit, overwhelming and frightening. However, at the same time, it also liberated him. He saw a different side of the community he grew near. He saw people who could potentially become his new friends! He saw a world where everyone, for once, could be different and accepting.

He continued to stride down 16th Street NW with a smile, fueled by fascination and excitement, plastered on his face. However, his moments of bliss were interrupted by-  
“Erik, look out!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that awful ending :/
> 
> Quick update on what the hell is happening lol:  
> A few nights ago, I had a dream that, during First Class, Erik ran into Peter, who was 6 at the time. They bonded at the mansion, but, unfortunately, Erik had to send Peter back home due to the dangers his life brings, as well as the upcoming confrontation between him and Shaw at Cuba.  
> And then...ten years later, they ran into each other at the Pentagon and continued to bond, although their relationship was a bit more strained than the first time.  
> Finally, the dream concluded with Erik recruiting Peter to fight alongside him against Apocalypse, while they both learned about their pasts and relationship.
> 
> When I had asked people on whether or not they wanted to see this story come to life, I received some encouraging words :) So... ta da!!
> 
> I have ALL of the chapters/updates for X-Men: Apocalypse, While You Were Gone, Nothing Left, and X-Men: The Rise of Apocalypse typed out. I just need to find a day where I can sit down and carefully look over them :) I have not abandoned them, and all of your kind words continue to motivate, and inspire, me! So thank you with all of my heart :D
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Please let me know and write them down :0) I enjoy reading comments and feedback! They always help improve my writing.
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here's another brief chapter!!! And I'm almost done editing the other chapters for the other stories! Thanks for your patience and support :D
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling Errors and possible OOC-ness!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!

Erik Lehnsherr -- Holocaust survivor, Nazi hunter, manipulator of magnetic fields -- never imagined himself as a follower. Hell, he never imagined following a rich and naive college graduate who also possessed superhuman abilities. But the biggest shocker of all; Erik didn’t imagine that he’d be trailing alongside a younger telepath searching for others whom he claimed were like them. To make it clear, Erik had the physical and mental power to detach himself from the man whenever he pleased. However, his reason for staying extended far beyond vengeance and redemption.  
The reason the superhuman, dangerous, and pain-ridden drifter stayed with the british sod was because of the world that was revealed to him.

Erik could remember the night like it was yesterday. He had been **so** close, too close, to killing Sebastian Shaw, the mutant who forcefully stripped him of everything he valued -- his dignity, his identity, his hope, and, most importantly, his family. Shaw had exploited Erik’s vulnerability, confusion, and love through the means of torture, humiliation, and death. Shaw, the monster who took everything from him, was his creator. However, during their brief confrontation a few nights ago, the metal-bender’s inability to control his powers ended up costing him sweet justice, and nearly his own life. But then, a young british telepath, who went by the name Charles Xavier, pulled him from the depths of the pain and rage (as well as the actual ocean). In that single night, Erik’s whole world changed. After a decade of searching, he’d finally met someone who also possessed similar abilities. After numerous years of isolation and loneliness, the telepathy introduced him to other, much younger mutants -- Raven Darkholme, Hank McCoy, Alex Summers, and Sean Cassidy -- who not only shared similar fears and values as him, but who also catapulted him into the unfamiliar world of mentorship, burdening him with more responsibilities and pride for them, as well as the mutant race. After spending a majority of his life living in despondency and pain, Charles Xavier gave him something that he hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. Those are just some of the reasons Erik Lehnsherr pledged his allegiance to a mutant, a friend, to a man who came from a different world from his own.

“Erik, look out!”  
Charles’ panicked voice harshly brought him back to reality, where an orange 1961 Bristol 407 decided to play daredevil and speed through a red light… right when he was crossing the street. There was only five feet between himself and the death machine speeding towards him at 67 mph. Erik couldn’t stop the car, not unless he wanted to draw unwanted attention to himself, Charles, and possibly the world of mutation. Plus, he didn’t have the reflexes to even do so -- by the time he’d raise his hands, the car would’ve already plowed through him, effectively ending his and Charles’ work. He was trapped…  
_‘Death by a hit-and-run; how pathetic.’_  
Suddenly, without any warning, Erik could feel two small hands tightly grab onto his leather jacket and forcefully pull him from the vehicle’s pathway. However, because the act came as a shock, Erik ended up tripping over his own two feet, and fell backwards onto the pavement… or some softer version of the pavement. By the time his elbow made contact with the hard ground, the orange car had already zoomed past him, just barely missing his right ankle.  
“Arsehole!!!” Erik screamed.  
Before he could yell any further, Charles was rushing towards him. “Are you alright?”  
“Never better,” Erik sarcastically mumbled. “This day keeps getting better and better, wouldn’t you say?”  
“We’ve been trapped inside my place for nearly two days. We could use some fresh air-”  
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you have acres and acres of open land?”  
“Erik, you’re missing the-”  
“Y-You’re heavy.”  
Surprised by the unexpected commentary, as well as younger tone in the voice, Erik and Charles tore their eyes away from each other and towards the source of the sound.

Behind him, or rather underneath him, laid a small boy with fascinating, and familiar, features. The boy, who Erik quickly deducted was no older than six years old, stood around three-foot-seven -- the average height for a child his age. However, the feature that instantly captivated Erik, as well as Charles, were the boy’s inky irises that heavily contrasted, as well as highlighted, his unique white hair. Despite the darkness, Erik could detect so much warmth and life in the boy’s eyes. It was captivating… and even intoxicating. The kid wore a simple white t-shirt that was covered by a dodger blue jean jacket. The cut of his grey jeans completely covered his grey sneakers, making him prone to tripping over his two feet.  
_‘So this is my hero,’_ Erik silently mused while continuing to scan the kid. _‘Damn, I really hope Charles doesn’t blabber about this incident to the others. The last thing I need is to have my reputation tarnished by a small boy.’_ Then, Erik tilted his head. _‘There’s something familiar about this boy, yet I cannot put my finger on it. Something- Oh my god.’  
_ “A-Are you okay, sir?”

Meanwhile, Charles stared at the young boy in fascination and excitement. “Remarkable!”  
The white-haired boy, who was previously attempting to push Erik off of him, jumped at the telepath’s remark. “Wh-What?”  
“Before my friend attempted to cross the road, I saw you walking down the street.”  
“So?”  
“Don’t you see? You were ninety feet away from us, and, in less than four seconds, you beautifully covered that distance and saved my friend!”  
The kid sheepishly smiled. “It’s no big deal.”  
“On the contrary, I’ve never seen anyone possess such abilities! What do you think, Erik?”  
It was only when he mentioned Erik that Charles realized that his friend had yet to tear his gaze away from the little boy. At a closer inspection, Charles detected a wide range of emotions in the metal-bender’s eyes -- disbelief, fear, sadness, and joy. He’d never seen Erik express so many emotions in a single second.  
“Erik?” Charles continued. “Erik, are you okay?”  
“Sir,” the kid began, “y-you’re crushing me. Can you get off?”  
The small, squeaky voice brought Erik back into the present. Shaking the cobwebs from his brain, the metal-bender hastily removed himself from the ground, and watched as the little kid quickly collected himself. Erik also took careful notice of how desperate the boy was to hide his white hair underneath the black baker boy hat. With all men standing on the now empty street, Erik continued to stare down at the kid.  
“Why are you staring at me?”  
“Forgive me,” Erik quickly responded, effectively halting the endless river of emotions and thoughts. “I’d like to thank you for saving me. I owe you-”  
“Nothing,” the other brightly replied. “I’m just glad that car didn’t flatten you.”  
Charles, who had removed himself from the conversation, continued to stare at the kid in fascination. He wanted to know more about this kid -- where he came from, the abilities he possessed, how he managed to elicit such a different side of Erik. Then, as if a lightbulb turned on inside of his head, Charles smiled.  
“My friend and I are a bit lost. You see, we are trying to locate Smithsonian Art Museum.”  
_‘Charles, what the bloody hell are you doing?’_  
_‘This boy could be one of us, a mutant!’_  
_‘So what? He’s just a boy!!’_  
_‘Yes, but he may not be aware of his mutation just yet. I just want to talk with him a bit more, before we depart.’_  
_‘Charles-’_  
_‘Trust me.’_  
Ignoring Erik’s hesitant sigh, Charles continued. “Could you possibly show us the way there?”  
The boy’s eyes lightened up. “Yeah! I walked past it a while ago, but I can retrace my steps.”  
“Excellent! Now then, shall we be on our way?”  
The boy eagerly nodded his head. “Let’s go!”

Before they could take a single step, the white-haired kid suddenly turned around. “What’s your name?”  
“My name is Charles Xavier,” the telepath warmly replied while extending his right hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
When the boy finished shaking the brunette's hand, he turned to the taller man. “And yours?”  
Erik was speechless. It took him a lot of mental strength, but he was finally able to extend his own hand. “M-My name is Erik Lehnsherr.”  
As the boy smiled, dimples appeared below his dark yet lively eyes. “My name is Peter Maximoff!”

When Erik’s hand connected with Peter’s, he nearly cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of Love?? Please feel free to write 'em down in the comments below :) I love reading them and they usually help improve my writing! Any feedback is welcome :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here's another chapter :0)
> 
> The support for this story is overwhelming! Thank you so much for leaving hits, kudos, and comments!! 
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

The trio’s journey from 16th Street NW to the Smithsonian American Art Museum was surprisingly pleasant… at least for Peter and Charles. The duo talked nonstop about their personal lives -- excluding a few details --, their hobbies, and their interests.

“What’s a senior thesis?” Peter asked as he treked alongside the telepath, slightly increasing his speed in order to match the older man’s.  
“It’s basically a research paper on a topic a student, formely like myself, writes and presents to others.”  
“What does it have to be about?”  
“Anything you desire, Peter.”  
“Really? So I could write a paper about… ice cream?”  
“With some strong arguments and facts, I don’t see why not.”  
“That’s awesome!! What did you write about?”  
“Mutation.”  
Peter tilted his head in confusion. “Mutation?” It took him a few seconds to properly pronounce the term.  
“Mmm hmm. I dedicated my entire final year of college to the study of mutants.”  
“What are mutants?”  
And thus, Charles began to present Peter a simplified version of his final paper that earned him his diploma. While using easier words a six year old could understand, as well as clarifying any statements that confused the boy, the telepath eagerly introduced Peter to a new world.

It was incredible, actually. The concept of superbeings has always been extremely hard to digest. Scientists from all over the world have contributed their individual findings on biology in order to discover a new kind of species that could potentially possess such extreme power. However, because the X-Gene, and l as its side effects continues to evolve with age, no one has ever been able to properly examine the evolution of mutants. As a result, the dismissal of the topic affected two species: humans and mutants. Individuals who did not possess the X-Gene or any superhuman ability often grew hostile towards those who did have Gene -- Nobody was willing to view mutants beyond their gifts, resulting in envy and ignorance. Meanwhile, the lack of exposure and knowledge of mutations prevented mutants from truly comprehending their abilities, and obscured perceptions of their own identity in a world shaped by unfamiliarity. Charles relished every second dedicated to educating Peter, who may possess the Gene, about mutation. By engaging in this conversation, the telepath hoped that Peter would feel comfortable not only with what he may have been given, but also with himself. Based on Peter’s enthusiasm towards the topic, his words seemed to be working.

“So they’re superheroes born with their powers.”  
“That’s one way to look at it.”  
“Cool!”  
It was during this point of their conversation that Charles registered the third party’s lack of commentary. “Erik, you seem oddly quiet. Is everything alright?”  
Erik, who had spent the entire journey in his own world, or rather his past, snapped back into reality. “Wh-What?”  
“Peter and I were discussing the X-Gene. How do you see the genetic trait?”  
His only response was a half-assed shrug of the shoulders. Before Charles could evaluate Erik’s underwhelming response, the trio arrived at the museum. When Erik looked down at the boy, he could see the kid’s personality change instantly. Peter’s curious eyes and contagious smile switched off and were replaced with sadness. Seeing such a young, vibrant boy in such a state of dejection made Erik’s heart twist.  
“I guess we’re here,” Peter said, disappointment hidden in his tone.  
Another twist. However, the second twist ignited something inside of Erik; something he thought had died in the camps: kindness.  
“Charles, you sod, the museum is closed on Sundays.”  
When Charles’ blue eyes met Erik’s, all of the metal-bender’s intentions were revealed. The best part? The telepath didn’t even have to dip into his friend’s mind to retrieve the answers. During their few days together, the two already began to adapt to their different mindsets and schemes. Winking at Erik, Charles cleared his throat and looked down at Peter, whose gaze was directed to the distorted pavement.  
“You’re absolutely right! Peter, I’m terribly sorry for any inconvenience my mistake may have caused you.”  
The white-haired boy looked up at Charles, a small smile plastered on his face. “I’m not sorry. I like talking to you.” He turned to Erik. “You too, sir.”  
“I apologize if you and I didn’t converse that much. Perhaps we could take advantage of our now empty schedule and grab some lunch.” While Charles’ nod in agreement was instantaneous, Peter looked a little cautious, almost as if he didn’t believe that the invitation was for him. “Would you care to join us, Peter?”  
The sadness in Peter’s eyes drained away instantly and now projected excitement. “Really? I can eat with you two?”  
“Of course you can. After all, I you saved my life. Consider this my way of expressing gratitude.”  
“What’s gratitude?” Peter asked, his head tilting to the side a bit.  
“We can expand your vocabulary during lunch. So, are you in?” Peter nodded so eagerly, Erik thought the boy’s head would fall off. “Excellent.”

With a mighty burp, Peter slumped back into his seat. He had eaten a pretty good BLT that was accompanied with some chips, apple slices, and milk. In all honesty, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the weird food he’d be eating at camp, so he was extremely grateful that he’d been given a decent meal. Meanwhile, Charles had a cup of tea alongside tomato soup and half a grilled cheese. Erik’s meal consisted of black coffee, toast with strawberry jam, and some grapefruit. As the trio ate, Peter continued to ask Charles questions about mutants, and the telepath eagerly answered him. At times, Erik would chime into the conversation, adding his own two cents on the topic of mutation. Despite his occasional contributions, he chose to spend the meal watching the white-haired boy in amusement and slight nostalgia. Eventually, Charles announced that he had to go to the bathroom, leaving Peter and Erik alone. After a few moments of silence, Peter cleared his throat.  
“Do you know any mutants, sir?”  
“I do, as a matter of fact.”  
“Really?! What superpowers do they have? Are they good guys or bad guys? Do they know about their powers? How-”  
“Easy there, kid.” Despite his exclamation, Erik actually enjoyed the boy’s curiosity. “They are aware of their abilities and are in the process of learning how to tame them.”  
“Tame?”  
“Control. Domesticate.” Peter tilted his head in confusion. “The mutants I know are learning to properly use their gifts.”  
“Oh, okay. I wish I could meet one of them.”  
Erik felt himself grinning. “Really?” Peter nodded. “What if I told you that you already have?”  
Peter’s eyes widened. “I did?!”  
Glancing around to make sure no one was watching him, Erik lifted up a metal spoon and stared at it. It took a few moments, but then, ever so slowly, the metal item bent in half. If that wasn’t convincing enough, Erik then levitated the item onto Peter’s empty plate. At first, the boy stared at the spoon in shock, unable to fully process what had just transpired. But then, when his brain finally clicked, he nearly bolted out of his seat in excitement.  
“WOAH!! You’re a-  
“Shhh,” Erik interrupted, “I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention.”  
Although Peter complied with Erik’s request, he still stared at the man with fascination. “You’re a superhero!”  
Erik couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “That’s one way to view my mutation.”  
“What else can you do?”  
“I have limited control over what I can and cannot manipulate. Perhaps it’s possible that I haven’t uncovered the full extent of my powers.”  
“My mama tells me that practice makes perfect. If you practice enough, you could lift up an entire stadium!”  
Erik raised his eyebrow, intrigued by the boy’s optimism. “That’s reaching for the stars, but not completely far-fetched.”  
At that moment, a patron accidentally bumped against Peter’s head, causing the black hat he was wearing to fall off. Erik watched in astonishment, and slight concern, as the boy hastily picked up the hat and reapplied it to his head, tucking in as many white strands as possible. When the task was done, Peter turned back to Erik, who wore an unreadable expression.  
“What?”  
“Nothing.”  
Dropped gaze, fidgeting, blush -- Peter, Erik deducted, was embarrassed about his unique white hair.  

This type of self-consciousness wasn’t uncommon, especially at the Xavier mansion. All of the students were painfully aware of the consequences, physical or psychological, their powers carried. Raven’s blue scales, Hank’s prehensile feet, Alex’s deadly energy, and Sean’s overwhelming vocal projections -- their powers always came with a price that would ultimately make them fear themselves. However, Peter’s own awareness of his looks was different. While Hank and Raven had options to hide their appearances -- shifting into a more “natural” form, and shoes that hid the “disfigured feet --, Peter didn’t. All of the students at the mansion had the resources and abilities to hide their “flaws” in order to create a more idealistic version of themselves for the world to see. Peter, on the other hand, didn’t have anything that would erase his unique look. Hair dye would be a temporary solution, but Erik knew that it would never alternate the way Peter saw himself. Plus, there was no way a boy could dye his eyebrows, which were also white, to a more “normal” style. What truly upset Erik was seeing a six year old feeling ashamed of himself.

All of the students at the mansion were teenagers, each one of them biologically struggling with their own identities. It was natural for them, at their ages, to question their physical appearances and feel self-conscious. Peter’s only six. Six year olds are supposed to fearlessly explore the world, oblivious to all forms of authority and judgment. Watching Peter struggle with who he is, and at such an innocent age, deeply upset Erik. Not only wasn’t it fair, but it also forced Erik into a painful past.

When he was six years old, the Third Reich was non-existent. The discrimination, however, was already embedding itself into Erik’s life. Following the enactment of the Nuremberg Laws, Erik gradually became more self-conscious about who he was. Those who identified as Jewish, like Erik and his family, began to live in a system that was constantly oppressing them. The Star of David, which once stood as a symbol of Judaism, was used as a tool for hate. Wherever a star was placed, others began to use it as a signal for discrimination and hatred. Businesses, clothes, possessions -- all of them were labeled with the symbol, allowing others to ostracize and turn against those who wore them. When Erik was forced to wear the star, it was as if his entire world turned upside down. Those he considered friends pitied, and even beat, him. They saw themselves as above Erik, when previously they all saw each others as equals. Their entitlement always overshadowed Erik’s own individual needs. The Star of David created a whole new world for both the Jewish and their former allies. Even at six, the hardships of the Nazi uprising forced him to confront his identity in ugly manners that, ultimately, made him more aware his own traits.  
Peter’s self-awareness, as well as embarrassment for himself, infuriated Erik. It wasn’t fair that the boy was stripped of his happiness, dignity, and comfort. It wasn’t right that Peter’s innocence was already cracking. It wasn’t fair that Peter already shared a piece of Erik’s tragic history.

“Hello,” Charles announced as he plopped back into his seat. “Did I miss anything interesting?”  
Peter snapped his eyes from the floor to Charles, then to Erik. The boy leaned in his chair to get closer to the metal-bender.  
“Can I tell him?”  
The eagerness in Peter’s eyes, as well as the excitement in his tone, immediately informed Erik on what the boy’s request was about. When Erik nodded his head, Peter sent him a bright smile that made his own heart flutter.  
“Erik’s a mutant, Charles!”  
Charles let out a “surprised” gasp. “Is that true?” Erik, unamused by Charles’ attempt at “humor”, only blinked at him. “What exactly did he-” Charles was effectively cut off by an excited Peter holding a bent spoon directly in front of his eyes.  
“He bent it and levitated it with his mind.”  
“Fascinating!”  
After a few moments, Peter asked, “Are you one, too?”  
Charles raised his eyebrow in amusement before leaning closer towards Peter’s face. _‘I am, Peter.’  
_ Peter’s eyes widened in fascination and confusion. “Y-You can talk to me without talking to me?”  
_‘In some ways. I’m a telepath, meaning that I can read, and communicate with, your mind. Think of anything, Peter, and I will repeat it back to you.’  
_ After a few hesitant moments, Peter came up with, _‘Erik and Charles are superheros? Lucky.’  
__‘Erik and I are flattered by the title ‘superhero’, Peter.’  
_ Peter stared at the young telepath for a few moments while his brain frantically tried to process what was going on. Eventually, all he could do was smile.  
_‘Awesome!!’_  
“Are you two having fun?”  
Charles brought himself out of Peter’s mind before nodding at his friend. “As a matter of fact, we are.”  
“Did you know Charles was a mind-reader, sir?”  
“I did, Peter.”  
The boy looked at the two older men with admiration. Kids often expressed fear towards the unknown, and then often tried to find ways to control them in order to give them some kind of power. With Peter, he welcomed the unknown with open arms, and expressed curiosity and kindness towards those that were unfamiliar. Erik was astonished by the boy’s optimism and curiosity. Perhaps his innocence wasn’t completely tarnished by man’s hubris.  
“-it is possible that you have the X-Gene.”  
“Really? I could have superpowers?!”  
That snapped Erik out of his muse. “Charles, what is going on?”  
“I was just raising the possibility that Peter may possess mutate genes.”  
All of Erik’s happiness and carefree nature instantly vanished, and were replaced with absolute anger and uncertainty. “Could I have a word with you?” he gritted out through clenched teeth.  
Before the telepath could give his response, Erik had already yanked him out of his seat.

“What the hell are you doing?” Erik growled as he not-so-gently guided Charles towards the bar.  
“He outran a car moving at sixty seven miles per hour. At the age of six, Peter ran faster than Wilma Rudolph. Super speed is a rare mutation, Erik. Nobody has ever encountered, and properly documented, a mutant who possessed that power.”  
“Your desire to study the unknown does not give you permission to suddenly thrust a boy into our world!”  
“He’s not fully aware of who he is, Erik. If we brought him back to the mansion, he’d been given numerous safe and effective resources that would help him uncover, and slowly adapt to, his gifts.”  
“Absolutely not.”  
“What if he accidentally hurts someone or himself? What if someone hurts him? His age is the perfect time to slowly integrate him into the mutant community. He’ll practice controlling his powers, and hopefully our guidance will retain itself until he becomes more mature. Erik, he needs this time to explore who he is, and what he can be, in this world.” Erik still didn’t look convinced. “When he and I were talking on our way to the museum, I noticed that his eyes were red-rimmed. And, even without dipping into his consciousness, the boy was radiating rejection and indignity. Something happened to him before we encountered him… and I can only assume that his unique hair played a vital role.” Brief flashbacks of the two instances where Peter frantically tucked away his hair underneath the hat appeared in Erik’s mind. “His fascination and attachment to superheroes is a form of escapism. He admires, and even envies, those who have special abilities.”  
“Why is that?”  
“I don’t know… but uncovering that could help us assist his abilities and self-esteem. Like yourself, Peter’s lost. He’s struggling with his identity, and the burdens it carries. He deserves to have the opportunity to explore himself in a safe and accepting environment.”  
Before Erik could protest, he looked back over to Peter, who was examining the bent spoon. Even at a far distance, the older mutant could see so much excitement and curiosity in the boy’s inky eyes. When he had exposed his own secret, Peter was so exhilarated that nearly bolted out of his seat. Peter’s genuine interest, instead of fear, towards the idea of mutation was unique. Perhaps they should take advantage of the boy’s interest and properly introduce him into their world. Not only would it benefit the boy, but it would also allow Erik to spend more time with him… time that he’d never gotten. With a deep sigh, Erik nodded to Charles.  
“Alright…”

When the pair sat back at the table, Peter glanced at the two of them with slight fear. “Did I do something bad?”  
“No no no,” Charles cheerfully replied. “Erik and I were discussing an opportunity that may interest you.”  
“What is it?”  
“Charles and I are staying in New York with a group of young mutants. If you want, we could bring you down there to confirm whether or not you possess the X-Gene.”  
Peter’s eyes widened. “Really?! But what if I’m not special?”  
“Then you can still stay with us for a while. We’re housing a group of young mutants, and their presence could allow you to ask them questions. It’s your decision, but-”  
“Yes! I want to go!”  
“Brilliant,” Charles stated with a fierce clap. “Of course, we’ll have to ask for your mother or father’s consent, but-”  
“My mom’s out of town for the summer,” the boy instantly responded, igniting Erik’s brief suspicion.  
“And your father?”  
“I don’t have one…”  
Erik’s heart twisted, but he still appeared unphased. “What happened to him?”  
“My mama said that he abandoned her… and me.”  
Before Peter could place the blame on himself for his father’s absence, or before Erik could drown in endless guilt, Charles’ optimistic attitude brought them both back from the brinks. “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss more personal stories. However, for the sake of time, we probably should get moving before the sun sets. When we reach our destination, we can call your mother from there. Does that sound okay?"  
“Yes sir. Thank you so much!!” Then, a thought. “If you want, I have some money that I can give if you’d-”  
“Believe me, Peter, Charles has plenty.”  
“You sure?”  
“Trust me.”  
“Oh… okay. Well, let me just go potty.”  
In the blink of an eye, Peter was out of his seat and speed-walking towards the restrooms. “Peter’s instantaneous desire to tag along with strangers is concerning,” Erik mused.  
“True, but he does seem to hold a lot of interest in you, my friend. He feels more comfortable and safer around you. He’s more open around you, and that must come from somewhere. Trust, perhaps.”  
“Yes… perhaps that’s it.”

While Charles stared at the door in amusement, Erik’s mind replayed a seemingly innocent statement over and over again, like a mantra.  
_“My mama said that he abandoned her… and me.”_  
Despite Peter’s good intentions, his words hurt Erik in more ways anyone would understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Please feel free to write them in the comments!!
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)
> 
> P.S: What did you all think of X-Men: Apocalypse? I, personally, didn't really like it. The beginning was great, but it quickly got messy and lazy. I feel like they replaced the emotional depth and proper character development, that First Class and DOFP had, with lazy writing, over-the-top CGI, and star power :/ They focused more on the $$ than the actual characters
> 
> However, Michael Fassbender was phenomenal!!! He, as well as Evan Peters, is the reason to see this otherwise mediocre/underwhelming film (6.1/10).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> I can't even begin to express my gratitude to everyone who's supported this story!!! You all are incredible, and I'm very lucky to receive such warm feedback and support from people like yourselves!
> 
> Here's another chapter :D It's a little on the short side, but I haven't had enough time to write a longer chapter :/ The next few chapters, I promise, will be longer :)
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!

The journey to the facility went surprisingly well!  
Children have always had thin attention spans -- after a certain amount of time, their patience grows thin, boredom sets in, and crankiness quickly follows. Peter, however, was relatively quiet. When they had exited the capital, he and the two older men talked about the adventures and friends that awaited him.  
The boy’s enthusiasm was contagious, sparking excitement within the other two mutants to return to the familiar setting. However, as they made their way out of the state, Peter grew silent. His attention had diverted away from the men inside of the car, to the outside setting. The boy spent a majority of the ride staring out into the open roads, unbound hills, and limitless blue sky. From all of the car’s mirrors, Erik and Charles caught glimpses of Peter’s enchanted gaze. At times, much to their amusement, the boy would wave at other cars, hoping to elicit some kind of response. Whenever a car honked back at him, Peter would giggle to himself before moving on to the next vehicle. As previously stated, his fearless attitude towards the unknown was captivating and contagious. At the age of six, Peter had more courage and heart than a majority of adults Erik knew. It was something to be admired, and a little cautious of.  

After a long, three-hour car drive, the trio finally pulled up to the eloquent mansion in Westchester, New York.  
“Woah,” Peter said, highly intrigued by the different setting, “it’s so big!”  
Charles smirked. “It’s bigger on the inside.”  
The telepath could feel Peter radiating curiosity and anticipation. Even without his powers, he could feel the boy’s becoming restless -- he began to squirm in his seat and press himself closer to the door. Because the boy was situated behind Erik’s seat, the metal-bender could see the fascination and excitement in the boy’s dark irises.  
“This is real?”  
“Uh huh.”  
“Really?!”  
“Really.”  
When the car came to a halt, Peter’s immediate response was yanking at the door handle, like a caged animal clawing its way to freedom. Still, Erik couldn’t help but smirk.  
“Peter, you must wait until Charles unlocks the car.”  
The boy instantly stopped and folded into himself, his gaze directed onto the floor. “Sorry,” he mumbled.  
“You misunderstand. I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I’m merely pointing out a fact that will not only improve your manners, but also benefit you in the near future.”  
“Erik’s right, Peter,” Charles chimed in as he shut down the car. “While your enthusiasm is wonderful, patience is virtue.”  
“What’s virtue?”  
“Respectable. Noble.”  
“Oh…Okay.”  
When the locks clicked, Peter slowly got out of the car, stealing a couple of glances at the older duo in the hopes that they were watching. Slinging his backpack over his shoulders, he followed Erik and Charles to the main entrance, his eyes continually darting from one object to the next.

Before Charles could even place his hand onto the handle, the door burst open and a young, blonde woman appeared.  
“Sean accidentally broke three windows, Alex set the Danger Room on fire again, and Hank’s stuck on the ceiling.”  
While the two older men rolled their eyes, Peter stared at the girl. “You’re pretty,” he said with a warm smile.  
The girl tore her gaze to the little boy standing beside her brother and her boyfriend… or whatever they were calling themselves at the moment. “Uhh…. thanks. Who are you?”  
“I’m Peter Maximoff.” The boy extended his hand. “What’s your name?”  
“Raven,” the other replied, unsure of the situation. “Charles,” she began as she shook the boy’s hand, “are we starting some kind of babysitting business I’m not aware of?”  
“Actually, there is a reason why we brought the boy over here. Where is Hank stuck?”  
“On the ceiling near the-” A loud crash. “Nevermind. Hank, come here!!”  
After a few awkward moments of Raven staring down at the stranger, and the stranger staring at the humongous staircase, another person entered the scene. The other man was a lot taller than Peter, causing the boy move slightly behind Erik and eye the stranger warily. Despite the man’s height, the man looked more friendlier -- perhaps it was the thick glasses, the simple cardigan, or the fidgety posture.  
“Hello. If you want, I can clean up the mess Alex and Sean made b-”  
“At ease, Hank,” the telepath gently replied. “Besides the destruction, how have things fared here?”  
The man shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing much to report.” Then, his blue eyes found Peter’s brown ones. “Who is this?” he asked as he knelt down to the boy’s level.  
“This is Peter Maximoff,” Erik replied, gently nudging the boy towards the other man.  
“I’m Hank McCoy.”  
“He’s very friendly,” Charles added.  
When Peter slowly extended his hand, it was held in a surprisingly gentle grip. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, a smile appearing on his face.  
When they let go, Hank stood up to his full height and looked back at his mentors. “Raven said you needed me?”  
“We do. It’s about Peter.”  
“Is he okay?”  
“We were wondering if you could perform an experiment on him.”  
“An experiment?” Peter asked nervously, once again moving to stand behind Erik.  
“Hank, Charles and I were wondering if you could confirm whether or not Peter has the X Gene,” Erik clarified flatly.  
It took the genius a few moment to process the request, but he soon replied with a confident nod. “Of course. Peter, if you could follow me.”  
When Hank extended his larger hand, the boy started at it with uncertainty. He then looked up at Erik, who gave the boy a quick smile to allay the boy’s fears. Returning the smile, Peter grabbed Hank’s hand and the duo made their way to an unknown location. Although Erik would never admit this out loud, watching the six-foot-three mutant awkwardly bend his body to properly grasp, and easily walk alongside, the three-foot-seven mutant was touching. Believe it or not, Erik Lehnsherr was moved… and even envious. He imagined himself holding the boy’s hand, guiding him to their next unknown adventure, comforting the boy with a gentle squeeze of the smaller hand. He-  
“So, now that Elroy Jetson is away, you mind explaining to me why a six year old is here?” Raven asked, crossing her arms.  
Before Erik could give his student a straightforward answer, Charles began to tell the whole damn story about youth, mutation, self-awareness, and acceptance. At one point, when Charles got to the part where Peter saved Erik, the metal-bender himself decided to abandon the conversation and check in on Peter.  
In the end, the only thing Raven could say was, “Wait, that kid saved Erik’s ass? HA! Wait until I tell the boys.”

When Erik arrived at Hank’s laboratory, the genius was in the middle of explaining why he had to take a blood sample to Peter. The oldest mutant could see the hesitancy, as well as fear, in the boy’s eyes.  
“What’s DNA?”  
“Deoxyribonucleic acid, a self-replicating material present in nearly all living organisms as the main constituent of chromosomes.” Peter only blinked in confusion. “It is the carrier of genetic information.” The boy began to show signs of understanding, but still couldn’t fully understand Hank’s words.  
“DNA,” Erik added as he moved to stand beside Peter, “is what holds the X Gene, as well as other information that makes individuals unique.”  
Peter, who was sitting in a slouched posture, slowly began to straighten himself. “So… DNA makes us different?”  
“Exactly.”  
“Does everyone have the same DNA?”  
“It depends. Identical twins often share similar DNA because they originated from the same fertilized egg. However, there have been many cases where no two individuals shared the exact same genetic structure.”  
“What about a papa and his son? Or a mama and her daughter? Are they similar?”  
For a second, Erik’s heart skipped a beat. “There are some similarities between an adult and their offspring, but their genetic structure is still different.”  
Their conversation came to a halt when Hank, who had apparently exited the conversation, returned with a large needle and a vile. The sight briefly threw Erik into a memory in Auschwitz, where Shaw sadistically held an enormous needle directly in front of Erik’s face. Meanwhile, Peter yelped at the object before leaping off of the medical table. Erik managed to catch the boy before he took off, carefully grabbing onto the younger mutant’s wrist.  
“Peter, what’s the matter?”  
“It’s so big,” Peter squeaked out, frantically trying to free himself from Erik’s hold.  
The metal-bender only smirked. “Come now, a boy who willingly threw himself into danger is afraid of a simple needle?”  
Peter’s struggles stopped, and his face began to turn red. “N-No. I’m not afraid!”  
_‘Pride… of course.’_  
After a few hesitant seconds, Hank jumped in. “It doesn’t hurt. It may pinch for a second, but that’s all.” Peter stared at the needle. “Don’t you want to know if you have the X Gene?”  
“Yes! It’s just… isn’t there another way to get my DNA?”  
“Blood extraction is the most efficient and reliable way.”  
Then, an idea popped into Erik’s head. “If you would like, I could… hold your hand.” Peter looked up at Erik. “Once you feel the sting, just squeeze my hand. Is that okay?”  
To both men’s surprise, Peter immediately nodded his head before moving to sit on top of the table. However, due to his height, he couldn’t even get his upper half onto the metal surface. Instincts kicking in, Erik gently grabbed a hold of Peter’s waist and hoisted him onto the platform. Although Peter tried to struggle out of Erik’s hold, either due to embarrassment or pride, the corners of his lips lifted. The genius watched the scene unfold, curiosity surging through him. Before he could ask about Erik’s sudden change in character, the metal-bender looked at him.  
“Are you ready?”  
Hank shook the cobwebs from his brain before wiping the exposed skin with a disinfectant wipe. “Yeah. Are you ready, Peter?”  
The white-haired boy slowly reached for Erik’s hand. When their eyes met, all of his fears lessened dramatically. “Yes sir.”  
When the needle entered Peter’s skin, he swallowed due to the sting and squeezed Erik’s hand. The older mutant cautiously squeezed back, silently confirming the boy that he was here. As Hank drew Peter’s blood, Erik began to scan the boy’s features in the hopes of finding any genetic traits that may have been passed down from him to the-  
“All done!” Hank announced.  
When Hank inserted the blood into a vile, Erik released Peter’s hand. However, to his surprise, Peter still kept his grip on his hand. While this scene may stir up questions, Erik didn’t remind the boy to let go. He didn’t want to… He didn’t want this moment to end. Eventually, the boy finally acknowledged his hand and quickly let go of Erik’s.  
“Sorry,” he said.  
Erik didn’t reply, but rather patted the boy’s back. “Alright,” Hank announced, “give me a couple of hours, and I should have the results by then.”  
“Hours?” Peter whinned, much to the other’s amusement. “What can I do until then?”  
“I could show you around the mansion,” Erik offered.  
“Really?!”  
“Of course. After all, you will be living with us for a while. I might as well get you acquainted with your temporary home.”  
Peter leaped off of the table and grabbed his backpack. “Cool!”

When Peter extended his hand for Erik to take, the older mutant took it without any (or rather, without much) hesitancy. Unlike Hank and Peter, there was no awkwardness in how they walked alongside each other. There was no awkward gap between them, no missteps, and no unexpected stops. The two walked in step, talking about past adventures -- excluding some stories --, as well as excitements for the future. If anyone saw the pair walking together, they would believe that they had done this for an extremely long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the fluffiness!!! Things will pick up soon, I promise :D
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Feel free to write them down :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> The support for this story is unreal!! You all are the best, and I'm very lucky to have been introduced to a wide range of fellow writers and X-Men/Dadneto fans :D
> 
> Here's another short chapter! I've been very busy with work, and haven't had enough time to write full chapters :( So I'm terribly sorry about that :/
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

“Peter?”  
The white-haired boy’s endless curiosity, as well as impatience, continued to present itself in a typical six year old manner. For the twenty-fifth time within the last three hours, Erik found himself chasing after the young boy, who had continually abandoned his “tour guide” in order to explore the facility himself. Whether it be to his arguably boring tour, or due to the boy’s young nature, Erik still found himself entertained by Peter’s impatience. He enjoyed the boy’s endless, untamable curiosity and interest in the unknown, and it didn’t really bother him that Peter decided to branch off and explore on his own. However, after the twentieth time, the metal-bender could feel his own frustration grow. It wasn’t that he was necessarily annoyed with the boy -- Erik himself was once a child with an unquenchable thirst for discovery and knowledge. Peter’s high energy, while contagious, can be problematic. For all Erik knew, the boy fell down some never ending ditch, or accidentally impaled himself on a branch. 

“Peter?” Erik continued, heading outside to the back of the mansion. “Peter, where are-”  
“What’s that?”  
Biting down a sigh of relief, Erik walked over to Peter, who was standing on his toes in order to get a proper view of the humongous metal object that rested behind the mansion’s large field. When Erik stood next to the boy, he followed the boy’s gaze.  
“That’s a satellite dish,” he answered.  
“What does it do?”  
“It’s a device that sends and receives signals that tvs and radios need in order to function. Without the dish, you wouldn’t be able to watch television.”  
“Really?”  
“Afraid so, Peter.”  
“Woah…” After a few moments of silence, Peter looked up at Erik. “Have you ever tried to move it?”  
Good question. “It… hasn’t really come across my mind. Perhaps in the near future, I will exercise my powers on it.”  
As Erik silently scolded himself for not thinking about that idea earlier, Peter came up with another question. “How high is it up there?”  
“Pretty high, I imagine.”  
“Has anyone ever been up there?”  
“Not to my knowledge.” He looked down at the boy and raised his eyebrow. “Why?”

The journey up the satellite dish took roughly half an hour. Peter’s superhuman speed gave him the upper hand, allowing him to reach the top of the dish in twenty minutes. The remaining ten minutes was spent with Peter encouraging Erik, who was still making his way up the platform. When the metal-bender finally made it to the top, he sat on the edge of the dish, next to Peter, in order to catch his breath and briefly reflect.  
It was extremely odd: while the boy shuddered at the sight of a needle, he didn’t even hesitate to make a treacherous journey up a slippery satellite dish. Hell, he didn’t even mind tagging along two strangers to New York! Peter’s fears were unique, and even concerning -- he was afraid of the little, harmless things in life… not the things he should be afraid of.

“Woah,” Peter breathed out. “It’s so pretty.”  
Erik tore himself from his mind and stared out into the distance. Surrounding the mansion was an endless sea of trees, giving the facility a more secluded feeling. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky fiery red, orange, and yellow. The blue sky, however, balanced the chaotic and bright scene, giving the view a more tranquil feeling.  
“My mama would love this,” Peter suddenly stated.  
“Really?”  
“Uh huh. She loves sunsets. She’ll always sit outside and stare at the sky until stars appear. Sometimes, she lets me sit beside her, and we both watch the sun fall.” A beat. “Do you like sunsets?”  
“Absolutely. The fusion of the different colors is extremely serene.”  
“Serene?”  
“Beautiful.”  
“Oh, okay. Does your mama like sunsets?”  
Erik’s heart twisted at the memories of his deceased mother, who was taken from him in the most inhumane way possible. “She did. She absolutely loved them.”  
“Does she still watch them?”  
“My mother… passed away a while ago.”  
When Erik directed his gaze back to the view, he’d missed the wide range of expressions plastered on Peter’s face, mostly guilt and curiosity.  
“Oh… What happened?”

 _“Einer.”_  
_“Mama…”_  
_“Du kannst es schaffen.”_  
_"Zwei."_  
_“Alles ist gut. Alles ist gut. Alles ist gut!”_  
_“Drei.”_  
_**Bang!**_

The phantom sound of the pistol going off caused Erik to involuntarily flinch. He looked down at the boy, who sheepishly stared back at him. For a brief second, Erik considered telling the young boy the truth about his family’s demise. But, after careful consideration, he decided against it.

The Holocaust, and the devastating effect it had on the entire world, continues to be a very difficult topic to digest. The idea that a single man created a mindless army used to capture, persecute, enslave, and even kill millions of people who shared a different identity from theirs, seems fictitious. The fact that millions of people suffered and died because of what they identified as remains sickening. That said, Erik was extremely hesitant to tell the boy the ugly truth about his family’s demise. Even though Peter was fearless, there were some stories that would be too hard for a kid like him to digest. For all Erik knew, Peter’s reaction would have ranged between sadness and rage. He could possibly end up on a path of destruction. Worse one? He could grow up believing that all mutants would share the same fate as the Jews, Gypsies, or the others that were mindlessly slaughtered like pigs. He didn’t want the boy to grow up fearing his identity. If he did possess the X Gene, he wanted Peter to take pride in having a trait that put him above the average homo sapien. He wanted Peter to feel proud of himself, and others like him.

“A very bad man,” Erik began, his blue eyes briefly hardening at the thought of that monster, “wanted to hurt me… so he ended up claiming my mother’s life.”  
When Erik looked at Peter, he could see the confusion and distress in the boy’s dark eyes, amplifying his own guilt. “Why did he want to hurt you?” Peter asked.  
“That is a story for another day.” The white-haired kid still looked upset about the whole story. “Peter, I promise you that men like him are rare.”

Lies. The whole homo sapien race were corrupt, arrogant insects who justified centuries of torture, death, and self-righteousness with their fear of the unknown. The human race inherently desires to control what they do not fully understand, thus fueling their blinding belief that they had the power to control everyone and everything. Hitler’s belief that he could control the world ended up costing Erik and millions of others those they loved and valued. Shaw’s desire to exploit the mutant race resulted in the death of everyone the metal-bender held dear. Since the dawn of time, mankind always wanted to make sense of the unfamiliar… so they resorted to exploitation, discrimination, persecution, and death in order to do so. It sickened Erik to his very core.

“Wh-What happened to the man?”  
For obvious reasons, Erik refused to reveal that he was a Nazi hunter. That would either traumatize the little boy, effectively ending the minuscule bond growing  
between them, or it would influence Peter to follow in his footsteps. Either outcome would not be good.  
“I’m not entirely sure.” Realizing that he was getting too personal, Erik concluded the conversation with, “That’s enough for now.”  
Peter, shocked by the older man’s confession, began to unconsciously rub his right forearm. He’d always believed that people, save for a few bullies, were friendly. Sure, they could be a bit mean to him by constantly pointing out the things that made him self-conscious -- his hair, his eyes, his lack of a father figure. However, he paid more attention to those who looked past his “flaws” and who treated him like a normal kid. Hearing that there were some people out there who liked watching and inflicting pain scared him a bit. In addition, he was genuinely upset that someone as cool as Erik suffered that badly. When he ceased rubbing his forearm, Peter twiddled his thumbs and looked down at his lap, as he frantically trying to come up with an appropriate response. In the end, he came up with this:  
“I… I’m sorry he hurt you.”  
Erik, touched by the boy’s vain apology, briefly rubbed the boy’s back. “You are not responsible for my mother’s death, nor for the pain I’ve endured; you do not need to apologize.”  
“Do… Do you miss her? Your mom?”  
“Everyday,” Erik sighed. “So…now that I have bared my soul for you to see, perhaps you could tell me a thing or two about your own family.”  
“Like what?”  
“Well, tell me something about your mother or father.”  
“I told you, I don’t have one.”  
“Not even a step-father or-”  
“I don’t have one, okay? I never had one and I never will have one!”  
Unfazed by Peter’s unexpected outburst, Erik continued to gently coax Peter into revealing something, anything, about the lack of a father figure. “I apologize, but can you remind me of the cause of your father’s absence?”  
For the first time since they met, Peter glared at Erik. “Why does it matter to you? He’s my papa, not yours! It’s none of your business!!”  
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just curious about you. I meant no harm.”  
The younger boy instantly felt guilty about yelling at the older man, but he didn't apologize. “Everyone makes fun of me. Kids always point out that I never had a papa.”  
“There are plenty of single mothers out there, Peter.”  
“Yeah, but they still come back to visit their kid. My papa never even visited me once.”  
Erik’s mind was racing, frantically trying to conjure up some response that would comfort the boy without revealing too much. He came out short…

The pair sat on the satellite dish in complete silence, each member lost in their own memories and emotions. While Peter continued to blame himself for his father’s absence, Erik was reflecting on the impact his father’s death had on him.  
If Erik were to be perfectly honest, he and his mother shared a more profound bond that affected him in more ways than he could ever imagine. He and his father, while comptable, never really shared any specific memories that solidified their bond. However, during the rise of the Third Reich, the two men grew closer, relying on one another to protect and survive. Their bond came to a complete halt, when his father was executed by gunfire and buried in a mass grave. While his death tore a hole in Erik’s heart, it was his mother’s demise that absolutely shattered it. He grew up admiring his mother’s kindness, intelligence, and love for others. Because of her, Erik learned how to properly sew clothes -- later wounds --, cook food, and, most importantly, see the world in a more optimistic view. Once she was taken away from him, it was as if his entire world fell.

Suddenly, another voice entered his head. He and the invisible man conversed for a few seconds, before Erik’s mind went silent again. As if a switch had been turned on, Erik’s personality lightened dramatically.  
“Peter,” he began, “Charles has just contacted me.”  
Peter’s brown eyes instantly lightened, while his posture repaired itself. “Really?! What did he say?”  
“He said that Hank has your results, and that he would like to present them to you in person.”  
“Awesome!”  
As the two began to head towards the lengthy ladder, Peter stopped and looked up at Erik. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”  
Erik smirked. “Well… I’m sorry too.”  
“For what?”  
“For pushing you to answer questions you didn’t feel comfortable answering. Also, I’m sorry about your father. I’m sure that wherever he is now, he’s always thinking about you.”  
Peter snorted. “That’s what mama says too.”  
The boy headed down the ladder first, leaving a guilt-ridden and devastated Erik at the top of the dish, alone with his own memories, hopes, and demons.

When Erik situated Peter onto the medical table, Hank slowly walked towards them, his nose buried in his clipboard. Charles, who had accompanied the duo, stood on Peter’s left side, Erik on his right. The trio held their breaths as Hank finally looked away from his clipboard and into the youngest member’s dark eyes.  
“So,” Peter began, “am I a mutant?”  
After a few tense moments, Hank smiled. “It appears so. Now Peter-”  
He didn’t even get to finish his sentence, for the now identified mutant ran out of the medical wing, leaving a trail of papers in his wake. The only person who could see the absolute joy in Peter’s face and eyes was Erik. This was it… this was the beginning for Peter Maximoff -- all of the advantages and consequences of being a mutant, both good and bad, now rested on the boy’s shoulders… and Erik’s as well.  
“What’s the matter, my friend?” Charles asked. “I thought you of all people would’ve been excited to know that the boy possessed such an advantage.”  
Keeping his calm bravado, Erik wordlessly walked out of the laboratory, away from Hank and Charles. Erik sought out isolation by walking back towards the backyard, where the satellite dish rested, silently mocking the metal-bender.  
  
For minutes, perhaps hours, Erik stared at the enormous item, trying to tame his wild mind.  
The life of a mutant was far from easy, as seen in Erik’s own tragic history. Many people will be confused, and afraid, of the boy’s abilities. Their ignorance will persuade them to control the unknown through any means necessary. Peter was only six, yet already diagnosed with superspeed. The boy had a lot of obstacles to overcome, some more personal than others. The scariest thing of all was that Erik wouldn’t be able to guide Peter forever. As everyone does, Peter will grow up and become far more independent than he already is. The dangers of the world, and its inhabitants, await the boy… and Erik wouldn’t be able to protect him the way he was suppose to.  
“I’m a superhero!!!” Erik tored his gaze from the dish to the open field, where a joyful Peter Maximoff was running around in circles, spreading his arms out like Superman. “I’m a superhero,” Peter exclaimed again and again.  
Erik couldn’t stop the genuine smile of happiness from escaping his lips. The boy had a lot to learn about himself, as well as the mutant world. However, his bright optimism and unquenchable curiosity could be beneficial to both of them. Perhaps mentoring the boy wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

Besides, it could finally give Erik the opportunity to play the role he’s always dreamed to playing: not a mentor or a teacher... but a father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter's training will begin in the next chapter! Plus, some familiar faces will make their first appearance ;)
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Please let me know and write them down :0) I enjoy reading comments and feedback! They always help improve my writing.
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> First and foremost, my heart goes out to all of the victims, and their families, of the Pulse Nightclub Shooting. I ask those who want to support the people of Florida, as well as the entire LGBT community, to not only stand beside both communities during this horrific day in history, but also to not give into hate. People have said this over and over, but I truly believe that love holds incomparable value: it has the power to guide those who are lost, comfort those who are scared, and empower those who feel powerless. It's easy to give into hate, to point fingers at groups and policies. It takes a lot of courage, strength and heart to love in a time of darkness. 
> 
> Here's another chapter :0) It's a lot longer than usual ones.
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

Following Hank’s announcement, Peter spent the next ten minutes running around the mansion, proudly exclaiming that he was a “superhero”. While the boy’s inextinguishable spirit slapped a smile onto Erik’s face, fear lingered in the back of the metal-bender’s mind.  
“Well, I hope you’re happy,” Erik said to Charles, who had joined Erik in watching Peter run around the field. “Peter’s exposure to the mutant world, the division amongst us and the homo sapiens, and his own abilities rests on your shoulders. Are you ready to accept those responsibilities?”  
Before Charles could answer, the white-haired boy finally stopped running in circles and ended up drunkenly stumbling onto the grass. While the boy’s dizziness drew out an eyeroll from Erik, the telepath only smiled.  
“Absolutely.”  
“I’m okay,” Peter yelled, giving the older men a shaky thumbs up.

When it was time for bed, Erik led the youngest mutant to his new bedroom. As soon as Peter’s eyes landed on the elaborate room, he could only stare in shock.  
Back in DC, the boy lived in a very small room that was only meant for a single occupant. His sister slept in another similar room opposite of his. Peter’s room consisted of a single bed with Batman sheets, a desk, a small closet, and a window that revealed his home’s backyard. Above his bed were glow in the dark stars, each one of them offering him comfort and opportunity before he drifted off into sleep. However, despite its small size, what made his room truly special was that it was next to an empty nursery where his new baby brother or sister would reside. It was the same room he and Wanda had grown up in, and it would belong to their newest family member. Peter didn’t mind the size or lack of decorations, for the stars above him, as well as the new presences that would reside next to him, continued to fuel his gratitude.  
His new room at the mansion was unlike anything he’d ever seen. The silk curtains, the gothic bedroom, the private bathroom, the enormous space, the fireplace -- Peter had never witnessed a more exquisite and decorative room in his entire life. He felt like an ant, his presence holding little significance in comparison to his setting.  
“Peter?”  
Ignoring Erik, the white-haired boy tossed his backpack aside and began to explore every corner of the room. Erik watched Peter travel from one end of the room to the other, from the beautiful bathroom to the window. The moonlight perfectly illuminated the satellite dish he and Erik were on hours ago, giving it a more commanding and haunting presence.  
“I can see the satellite dish!” He looked at Erik. “Can I sleep here?” he asked, or rather plead.  
“Of course. That was the reason I escorted you here in the first place. It’s time for bed.”  
In exactly fifteen seconds, Peter had changed into his Batman pajamas. Erik smirked when the boy swan-dived onto the queen bed. His brief moment faded when he saw a small item land right beside him. Moving slightly closer to the bed, Erik saw a familiar purple stuffed bunny sprawled right on top of the fluffy pillows. That single toy stirred up numerous memories that nearly sent Erik down a nostalgic and pain-riddled pathway.  
“The bed is so soft,” Peter said, squirming underneath the thick covers to get into a comfortable position.  
Erik shook away the memories and moved towards the hand-carved nightstand, where a lamp rested. Before Erik could turn off the lights, he could detect a hint of sadness in the boy’s eyes.  
“Is something wrong?”  
“It’s just… I always had glow in the dark stars on my ceiling.”  
Erik followed Peter’s gaze and found himself staring at a blank, empty white surface. When he looked back down at Peter, he saw the boy wrap the stuffed bunny in his arms. Erik wished he had a camera.  
“Those cheap, plastic toys are useless. If you look outside, you have the actual stars resting in the limitless sky. In the end, those hold more beauty and value than-”  
“Real stars can disappear,” Peter countered. “Sometimes they stay behind clouds for days. I like the stars in my room because they’re always there for me…” After a few silent moments, Peter asked, “Will I begin to train with you guys?”  
The older mutant, who had taken in Peter’s previous heartfelt words, didn’t automatically respond, but rather diverted his attention to the empty ceiling above them. He then looked outside, where the bright moonlight made the stars invisible. When he looked back down, he could see that the boy was waiting for an answer.  
“Soon, Peter.”  
“When’s soon?”  
“Soon is soon.”  
“But-”  
“Go to sleep, Peter.” The boy only blinked. “All superheroes need rest to regain their strength for the days to come. You are no exception.”  
With a sleepy smirk of satisfaction, Peter whispered, “Goodnight, sir.”  
Biting down a smile, Erik simply watched the boy’s eyelids flutter from exhaustion, before completely closing all together. When Erik finally turned off the lamp, the room was almost completely submerged in darkness. The moonlight, however, slipped through the curtain and illuminated Peter’s white hair, making the pasty hair shine as bright as the moon itself. After a few moments of listening to the boy’s even breaths, Erik carefully pulled the bedsheets over Peter’s form until they barely touched his chin.  
“Goodnight, Peter,” he whispered.  
When he made his way to the exit, he turned back around to check on the boy one last time. Despite the far distance, Erik could see Peter’s silhouette unconsciously hug the stuffed bunny even tighter. With a sad sigh, Erik closed the door.

It wasn’t the bright sunlight that was seeping through his window that had awoken Peter. It wasn’t the reminder that today was his official day of training, as a mutant, that tore Peter from his dreamless sleep. It was the accidental slamming of a door, followed by a scornful shush, that jolted the white-haired mutant back to the land of the living. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Peter slowly sat up from the bed. He couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful room, and how the sunlight highlighted every detail -- every book title, every fabric pattern, every speck of dust -- in such a serene manner.  
“Follow me.”  
The hushed whisper from the other side of the door caught Peter’s attention. As quietly as he could, he cautiously got out of bed and made his way towards the door. He slowly opened it, wincing at the creak it made, and glanced down the hallway to make sure that the source of the sound wasn’t watching him, waiting to attack him. Once he was sure that he was alone, he decided to pursue the whisper.

  
When the boy approached one of many kitchens, he peaked his head around the corner and saw two different men facing the widow, their backs to him.  
From what Peter could gather, one of them had short blonde hair that was almost perfectly trimmed. The other had longer, ginger hair that stuck out in all sorts of directions. The duo were about the same height. Underneath their baggy pajamas, Peter could see muscle on blonde, while the ginger seemed to be just plain skinny. They were leaning down over something placed on the table, whispering what Peter could detect as dares.  
“Come on,” the blonde began, “do it.”  
“Maybe this isn’t-”  
“Sean, you spent hours bragging about how you can control your powers. Now’s the time to put your money where your mouth is. Besides, what have you got left to lose?”  
The ginger, who had been identified as Sean, stared at his friend for a few seconds before straightening his back. “Fine.”  
Peter tilted his head when the blonde suddenly covered his ears. Before he could do the same, an unbearable screech erupted from the ginger’s mouth, causing Peter to fall onto his knees and yell in pain. The boy tried his best to press his hands tightly against his ears, but it still wasn’t enough. The noise was so incomprehensibly agonizing that Peter couldn’t even speak. He felt nauseous and lightheaded, ready to slip into unconsciousness. Soon enough, he felt a warm, thick substance trickle down his ears and lips. Peter was genuinely scared.  
“Sean, what the hell are you doing?!”  
The screeching mercifully ended. Discombobulated and weak, Peter bonelessly fell backwards and connected with the wall. Although he still couldn’t hear anything, he did see two familiar faces storming into the kitchen: Charles and Erik. While the telepath immediately confronted the boys, Erik stopped in his tracks when he saw Peter, bleeding and gasping for air, slumped against the wall. The others forgotten, he instinctively knelt down in front of Peter.  
“Peter, can you hear me?” The boy remained oblivious, still trapped in his own pain. “Pie-Peter… everything is okay.”  
With slight hesitancy, Erik placed a comforting hand on the boy’s knee. After a few moments, he finally elicited some kind of response from Peter. The white-haired boy looked up at Erik and used the warmth on his knee to slowly bring him back to full awareness. Finally, after spending a few seconds to ground himself, the boy met Erik’s blue eyes.  
“Are you alright?”  
The boy could only nod, still shaking from the entire ordeal. Erik stood up and extended his hand for Peter to take. The youngest mutant stared at the limb for a few seconds before grabbing ahold. Erik slowly pulled the boy from the floor, his free hand resting on the boy’s back to provide stability and comfort.  
“Charles, who is that?”  
The telepath, who was in the middle of scolding the pair, followed Sean’s gaze. When his blue eyes landed on Peter, his personality instantly brightened. However, once he registered the blood trickling down Peter’s earlobes and nose, as well as the tremors that shook his body, the telepath felt concern, as well as a tinge of guilt, hit his heart.  
“Peter, are you alright?” Charles asked, concern in his voice.  
The boy nodded, but still remained silent, prompting Erik to answer for him. “He’s fine. A little shaken, is all.”  
When Sean, the man responsible for the unbearable noise and pain, looked at Peter, the kid instantly hid behind Erik’s taller form, his small hands unconsciously gripping onto the fabric of Erik’s shirt. Meanwhile, the blonde also acknowledged the boy’s presence. His blue eyes scanned Peter’s small frame, or whatever he could see of it. However, once his eyes landed on the pasty hair, they remained glued (no pun intended) to it.  
“Nice hair,” he commented.  
Peter, now embarrassed, buried his head into Erik’s hip. “Alex,” Erik warned, anger laced in his voice.  
“What?” After a few moments, and a telepathic hint from his mentor, Alex instantly regretted the comment. “Kid, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I wasn’t making fun of your hair.”  
“You were going to,” Peter shyly shot back, hints of frustration and anger hidden in his voice.  
“That’s enough, everyone,” Charles said. “Alex and Sean, I’ll talk to you two later about exercising your powers in the house. But for now, either go back to bed or go practice outside. I expect you two to clean up this mess.”  
The duo nodded before making their way away from the kitchen, their blue eyes remaining on the youngest stranger. As they moved past Erik, Peter moved away from them and ended up hiding behind Erik’s right hip.

When it was just Charles, Erik, and Peter, the telepath motioned for Peter to sit on the stool next to the island. The runner looked up at the metal-bender, who guided him to the chair. Once the boy was situated, Charles finally released the guilt that has been gnawing at his heart.  
“Peter… I’m so sorry about that incident. Like you, those boys are learning to control their abilities. Apparently, Sean needs a little bit more practice.”  
At first, the boy didn’t automatically respond, but instead stared at his lap, his feet kicking air from time to time. Meanwhile, Erik grabbed a small washcloth and ran it under cold water. When he returned to the boy’s side, he began to gently dab at the drying blood on his left earlobe, as well as neck, until it was nonexistent.  
“It’s okay,” Peter sheepishly responded. “It was… kind of cool. I mean, it hurt, but it was still cool. What’s Sean’s power?”  
“I believe that he possesses a sonic scream that is capable of harming anyone’s auditory system.”  
Despite being hurt by the man minutes earlier, Peter still smiled. “Woah. What is that blonde man’s power?”  
“Alex can absorb and process cosmic energy,” Erik answered as he moved to stand in front of the boy. “That allows him to create and project hot plasma.”  
While Peter struggled to deconstruct when Erik had said, the metal-bender used his left hand to gently grasp the boy’s chin, immobilizing the boy’s head, and used his other to wipe away the dry blood that had stained Peter’s nose and lips. Meanwhile, Charles observed Erik’s protective, patient, and gentle behavior.

Erik was known for being aggressive and impatient, sometimes intentionally and other times not. However, one of the reasons Charles was so struck by Peter was because he highlighted a different side of Erik nobody, not even the telepath himself, could’ve ever predicted. Erik was almost a different man whenever he stood beside Peter -- he patiently answered the boy’s endless stream of questions, willingly acted as a human shield whenever the boy felt scared, and gently cared for the boy’s wounds. Seeing his friend, a seemingly cold-hearted drifter, care for the boy as if it were second nature, warmed Charles’ heart. That all said, Charles would not bring up Erik’s change in attitude, for he knew that Erik’s pride would quickly, and effectively, disrupt and end future moments similar to the one taking place in front of him. The telepath valued seeing this different side of Erik, and he’d do whatever it took to preserve it.

By the time Erik had finished cleaning off all of the blood, Peter finally put the pieces together. He still had a lot of questions relating to how cosmic energy turns into hot plasma, or how Alex didn’t melt whenever the process occurred, but he pushed them down for the time being. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he only just registered Erik wiping off the blood from his face. Embarrassed at being coddled, he moved his head away from Erik’s reach. Whenever the older man tried to move closer, Peter continued to move away from him… until he fell off of the stool. From the floor, he could see Erik and Charles snickering, amused by the boy’s error. Peter, feeling heat slowly build up in his checks, hastily situated himself back onto the stool.  
“Pride cometh before the fall,” Erik said with a smirk before tossing the reddish cloth to Peter.  
The boy was confused at the gesture. “Wh-Why are you giving me-”  
“You seemed very keen on cleaning yourself up without any assistance. I figured I’d respect your wishes.”  
The boy stared at the item for a few more seconds, already missing Erik’s gentle hands patiently ridding his skin from the dry substance, before picking up the cloth and attempting to clean off whatever remained on his face. He’ll admit, while his attempt was quicker, it wasn’t as comfortable as Erik’s. However, he didn’t want him, or anyone here, to think that he was a baby. He already was the youngest, shortest, and oddest looking member -- the last thing he wanted was to be considered the weakest, or the most dependent.  
“Peter,” Charles began, “I must ask you why you are up so early in the morning.”  
Peter’s mind began to frantically conjure up an answer. He didn’t want to rat out on Sean, who could already be in a heap of trouble, because he didn’t want to lose a potential friend. His friends told him that tattling was wrong and mean. So, in the end, he came up with-  
“I-I was hungry… and I just wanted some food,” he lied.  
Erik cocked his eyebrow. “Really?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“You didn’t wake up at-,” Erik looked at his watch. “-five in the morning because one of the students was, perhaps, exercising their powers, at the crack of dawn, without our permission?”  
Peter swallowed, but remained posed. “No, sir. I was just hungry.”  
Erik knew where the boy’s fear came from. Following the enactment of the Nuremberg Laws, Erik himself witnessed the division between himself and those he formally called friends. Erik did whatever it took to preserve what he’d built for so long. Often with little kids, the fear of being alone and hated, in an unfamiliar and even cruel world, almost always overpowered nobility. When Erik was a boy, he traded security over honesty to survive. Peter was no exception.  
After eyeing the boy for a few more seconds, Erik sighed. “Alright. Well, I suggest we all get some rest.” As if he sensed a moan of annoyance emerging from Peter, Erik continued with, “The strength and minds’ of the greatest warriors rely on rest. What good are they in battle if they are half-asleep?” Peter smirked. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours, Peter.”  
The boy smiled. “Okay, sir.”  
Peter leaped off the stool and walked towards his room, feeling satisfied that he’d gotten away with his lie. However, before he could fully exit the men’s line of vision, Erik called him. For a few moments, the boy believed that Erik saw through his lie, and that he would either punish him, or kick him out of the mansion.  
“Ye-Yes?”  
“Think fast.”  
Suddenly, a banana was tossed directly in front of his face, giving the boy less than a second to intercept it. Peter gracefully caught the fruit when it was an inch away from his face, mirroring how he caught the apple that was thrown at him on the bus ride. Peter stared at the fruit before looking at Erik, who smirked. Responding with a smile, Peter took off back into his own room.  
“He was lying,” Charles said, glancing at his friend.  
“Haven’t we all?”

Peter, Charles, and Hank stood below the satellite dish. While it was slightly unsettling that the two older men wore matching outfits, Peter didn’t complain. He didn’t feel (completely) excluded. Adjusting his black sweatpants, Peter looked up at Hank, who was writing something down on a clipboard. Meanwhile, Charles knelt down so that he was at eye-level with the boy.  
“Are you ready, Peter?” An enthusiastic nod was his response. “Excellent.” Charles turned on his heels and pointed to the back of the mansion. “In order to get a basic understanding of the full extent of your speed, I would like you to run from here to the mansion, and back again, as fast as you can. I will time you, and Hank will record the data. Do you have any questions or concerns before we get started?”  
“No, sir.”  
“Good. On the count of three, run. One…” Peter straightened his shoulders. “Two…” The boy took a deep breath. “Three.”  
Peter took off into the distance, leaving a trail of dirt and grass in his wake. He leaped over any statute or boulder that stood in his way. When he touched the mansion’s foundation, he immediately sprinted back to Hank and Charles, who look genuinely surprised that the boy had returned.  
“Well?” Peter asked.  
Charles clicked the timer off, and did a double-take. “Ten seconds?”  
Hank took the recorder from his mentor and also did a double take, making Peter giggle. “That’s… wow.”  
“My friend, could you follow Peter’s footsteps and run to and from the mansion?” Hank nodded, did a few stretches, and positioned himself. “Ready… set… go!”  
Using his enhanced speed, Hank took off towards the mansion. As the genius ran, Peter could see the mutant breaking into a sweat. During his own journey moments ago, Peter didn’t break a single sweat. By the time Hank returned, his grey sweater was slightly damp, and he his breathing was more elevated.  
“One minute and thirty-three seconds,” Charles announced. “What’s the distance between here and the mansion?”  
“About one mile and fifteen meters, sir.”  
Charles looked down at Peter, who nervously scuffled the grass beneath him with his shoe. “Outstanding!!”  
Peter jumped at the comment. “Really?”  
“Peter, you traveled one thousand, six hundred and twenty-four meters, in less than ten seconds, without breaking a single sweat! That is extraordinary!!”  
The boy could feel a smile forming. Hank, after spending a few more moments trying to piece together the remarkable results, nodded.  
“He’s right. Traveling at that speed, within the allotted time, is quite remarkable.”  
“Th-Thank you,” Peter shyly replied.

Then, from the far distance, Peter saw Sean, the man who had hurt him earlier. Charles could feel fear radiating off the boy, so he decided to bridge the gap between the two.  
“Peter, could you follow me?”  
When the boy nodded, Charles led the boy closer to the ginger, who was awkwardly pacing back and forth in front of a row of glass cups, trying to prepare himself for the task at hand. As the trio got closer to Sean, Peter began to slow down, now falling behind Charles. When the telepath stood next to the taller mutant, he looked over and saw Peter standing dead in his tracks, looking at the man with slight hesitancy. Sean, who had acknowledged Charles’ presence, looked at the boy standing across him from.  
“Oh… hey kid.” Peter only swallowed. “I, uhh, didn’t mean to hurt you. You doing okay?”  
“M’fine.”  
Charles, sensing Peter’s desire, and reluctance, to talk to the mutant, cleared his throat. “Sean is actually a massive comic book fan.”  
Peter’s eyes slightly widened. “R-Really?”  
The ginger nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. “Yeah. I’m a big fan of Spider-Man and Nightwing! Although, I’m really a big fan of Aquaman.”  
“I love Aquaman!” Peter shouted before quickly covering his mouth.  
Charles smirked. “Peter, do not feel like you need to limit your enthusiasm.Here, you can freely talk about your passions and interests without judgement or criticism.”  
“Well, unless you plan on murdering someone,” Sean chimed in, earning him a giggle from Peter. “So kid, I hear that you’re a superhero too. Maybe you’ll be the next Barry Allen!”  
Peter smiled. “Ch-Charles told me that you’re trying to control your powers,” he began, sheepishly kicking a lone stone away from him. “Is it hard?”  
“Well, I haven’t really practiced yet.”  
“The mess in my kitchen disagrees,” Charles countered. “By the way, you and Alex still have to clean up all of that glass.”  
“Glass?” Peter asked, tilting his head.  
“My screams can shatter glass. In the kitchen, I may have accidentally broken… a widow and ten plates.” During a brief pause, Sean awkwardly fidgeted, almost as if he was preparing himself for something. “Did… did you want to see?”  
After a few moments of hesitation, Peter nodded. “Okay.”  
When Peter moved to stand between Charles and Hank, the ginger mutant grabbed three sets of headphones and handed them to the trio. “Here,” he said. “Don’t wanna repeat this morning, right Peter?”  
The white-haired mutant nodded before placing the thick headphones over his ears. When everyone was ready, Sean took a deep breath and let out a loud scream. While the headphones blocked out the agonizing scream, Peter could actually see the sound waves emerging from Sean’s mouth and collide with the glasses. Immediately, all of the glass shattered into pieces. When Sean gave the thumbs up to remove the headphones, Peter instantly ran up to the broken glasses and picked up a shard.  
“Woah!”  
"SEAN," a new, feminine voice, screamed from the mansion. "There are people trying to sleep!! Shut up!!!" Raven.  
"Sorry, your highness," the mutant replied sarcastically.  
As Raven slammed her (now cracked) window shut, a lightbulb, in Peter's head turned on.  “Charles, can sound waves help people fly?”  
While Charles and Sean shrugged their shoulders, Hank nearly leaped with joy. “That… could be possible!! If you catch sound waves at the right angle, flight is possible!”  
As the genius tossed the headphone aside, Charles called, “Hank, where are you going?”  
“Peter gave me an idea! I’ll meet with you in a few hours, Professor!”  
When Hank vanished, Sean patted Peter’s back. “Never imagined Hank getting inspired by a six year old. Way to go, kid!”  
“It’s, uhh, okay, I guess.” After a few hesitant moments, Peter slowly extended his hand towards the taller mutant. “I-I’m Peter Maximoff.”  
Sean stared at the kid for a few moments before taking the boy’s smaller hand. “I’m Sean. Sean Cassidy. But you can call me Banshee.”  
“Banshee?” Peter questioned, struggling to pronounce the name properly. “What’s that?”

With a warm smile, Charles left the pair alone as Sean began to tell Peter the tale of Banshee, the wailing spirit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Age of Apocalypse comics, Banshee and Quicksilver actually have a very strong friendship! I figured I might as well incorporate some of that into my story :)
> 
> Final edits for "Nothing Left" and "X-Men: The Rise of Apocalypse" are being made. Thank you for all of your patience, and I hope to have them both posted by the end of this week!
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? *whispers* Write em' down below ;)
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here's another chapter :D It may be kind of fluffy, and I apologize about that!! Soon, action and drama will commence!!!
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling Errors and possible OOC-ness!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!

For the next three days, Peter endured relentless training sessions led by Charles Xaiver, Hank McCoy, and Erik Lehnsherr. Occasionally, a woman named Moria MacTaggert would stand alongside one, or all three, of the leaders. When Peter first met the agent, he instantly bombarded her with questions. The woman was surprised, and even touched, by the boy’s curiosity about the CIA, although a lot of his predictions and theories were based off of television programs. However, whenever Peter talked to Moria, he could always see resentment in Erik’s eyes. No matter how light their conversation, Peter would always catch Erik’s looks of suspicion and mistrust. One day, while he and Erik were stretching, Peter decided to investigate the metal-bender’s odd behavior.

“Why don’t you like Ms. MacTaggert?”  
“What are you talking about, Peter?”  
As he answered, Peter mimicked Erik’s forward fold. “It’s just… you always give her mean looks.”  
“And what do you know of ‘mean looks’?”  
“That’s how a lot of kids look at me. They look at me with… what’s the word?” A pregnant pause. “Distrust. They look at me like I’m a bad guy… a monster.”  
Erik swallowed another pint of guilt, but he kept his bravado. “Peter, I do not think Moria is a monster. However, I dislike her participation in the American Government. Law and order is often promoted as a necessity, but they often create inequality and suffering. Seeing her as a pawn, who is trying to uncover the world of mutants, does not help my viewpoint of her.”  
As Erik repositioned his body into a low lunge, he could see the boy tilting his head and silently evaluating the new posture. From the corner of his eyes, he  watched Peter slowly copying his posture, his dark eyes never leaving Erik’s form. Even with limited access, Erik’s blue eyes could see the determination and struggle in Peter’s eyes. With a smirk, the metal-bender released himself from the hold and moved to kneel beside Peter, who was struggling with keeping his balance.  
“Here,” he began as he outstretched his arms. “Place both of your hands onto your left calf. It will help you keep balance.”  
He gently took Peter’s flailing arms, neatly folded them, and placed them onto Peter’s exposed calf. When he folded the limbs so that his forearms would be holding a majority of Peter’s weight, he wordlessly continued his own stretches. He never noticed Charles, Hank, and Moria quietly watching the scene from afar.  
“Why don’t you like government?” Peter asked.  
“Because government can easily become corrupt.”  
“Corrupt?”  
“Venal. Unprincipled. Untrustworthy. They are willing to compromise the safety and freedom of its inhabitants, all for the sake of control and power. Unwilling to take responsibility for their own errors, governments often point fingers at people, mostly the foreign or the vulnerable. They place the blame onto others, create lies in order to gain support, and create policies or groups that target those they feel are responsible for their problems. They claim that they are for the people… but in the end, their loyalty rests with greed and dominance.” Erik paused to look at Peter, who was eying him carefully. “The only voice you should follow is your own.”  
“B-But… what if it’s wrong? What if I think something is right, but it ends up being wrong?”  
“That possibility is common, but it shouldn’t matter. What you believe is more important than what others believe. Don’t ever limit your ideas and values simply because a higher authority disagrees with you.”

Erik could see Peter processing his words in thoughtful manner. He was stunned by the boy's ability to self-reflect and constructively re-examine established lessons. He even expressed admiration towards Peter's intelligence: there were complex yet crucial life lessons, and the boy's brain absorbed the information with such ease, curiosity, and understanding. Before he could continue to admire the boy, Charles’ voice filled the silence.

“Gentlemen, are you ready?” Peter and Erik brought themselves back into reality and nodded. “Excellent!” When the duo met up with trio, the telepath began his proposal. “I propose that myself, Hank, Erik, and Peter have a race around the mansion. Whoever circles the facility five times first, wins the race.”  
The metal-bender didn’t look sold. “Hank and Peter possess abilities that amplify their speed. It’s not really a fair race.”  
“True, which is why you and I will be running for moral support. That, and also so we can witness the race from different perspectives. For accurate calculations, of course.” With a clap of the hands, the four men positioned themselves at the starting line. “Moria, we await your signal,” he said with a wink, much to Peter’s interest.  
The brunette rolled her eyes, but began the countdown. “Here we go -- Three. Two. One. GO!”

By the time Erik and Charles lifted their feet, Hank and Peter were already off. When the pair ran -- or rather jogged, considering that they both knew that winning was out of the question -- about twenty feet, they could hear a fast-paced beats coming from behind them. When Charles briefly turned around, he was greeted with a small figure already gaining traction. Soon enough, Peter had reached both older men and waved at them, before he overlapped them. A few moments later, Hank made his way towards his mentors.  
“The kid’s fast,” he breathed out.  
“It’s remarkable,” Charles gasped out, already out of breath. “What lap is he-”  
“Third lap!” Moria shouted as Peter zipped past her.  
As Hank forced himself to pick up the pace, Peter had begun to run up to him, surpassing Erik and Charles again. “Hi Hank,” he said with a smile.  
There was zero arrogance in Peter’s voice, only enthusiasm and innocence. “Hello Peter,” the mutant replied back.  
The white-haired boy caught speed and ran past Hank. When Peter had completed his fifth and final lap, he still continued to run. He wasn’t tired at all. Running was his favorite pastime, and so he trained his body to endure long and difficult runs as if they were nothing. By the time Erik and Charles had completed five laps, Hank had finished eight, and Peter twenty-five. What Moria couldn’t grasp was how little sweat appeared on Peter’s brow and clothes. While Hank, Erik, and Charles were dripping with sweat, the boy’s clothes were hardly damp, and his breathing briefly gained slight elevation towards the end. All in all, Peter barely wasted any energy.  
“That’s… remarkable,” Charles gasped out, heavily leaning a nearby statue. “You ran… around the mansion… twenty… five times… without… straining yourself.”  
Peter looked at the three older men before taking off into the kitchen. In less than thirty seconds, he reappeared with three water bottles. With nods of gratitude, the men took them and inhaled the liquid as if they’d been deprived of water for years, like savage animals. Eventually, when everything was normal, Erik looked down at Peter.  
“Exceptional.”  
The boy met Erik’s gaze. “Wh-What does that-”  
“Outstanding. Perhaps there is some potential in you after all,” he replied, instinctively ruffling the boy’s white hair.  
Although Peter immediately straightened out his silky hair, he still felt his lips tug upwards.

Following Peter and Hank’s running session, it was Erik’s turn to exercise his abilities. While he and Charles stood in the middle of the open field, both engaged in a private conversation, Peter and Moria watched them from afar. At first, the duo remained silent and focused all of their attention on Erik and Charles, both trying to deconstruct what was being exchanged. Soon enough, Peter began to ask Moria more questions. This time, however, they weren’t related to her work.  
“Do you like the Professor, Ms. MacTaggert?”  
The CIA agent snapped her attention down to the boy, who was sheepishly waiting for some kind of response. “Where did you get the idea that I like him?”  
Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Charles seems to like you. He always looks at you funny, like he’s using his mind tricks on you. Whenever you smile, he smiles. He tries to lean closer to you, even if you don’t like it. My mama says that’s a sign of love.”  
Moria felt her cheeks heat up. “I… admire his intelligence on mutation. He’s a very kind gentleman, although that could easily be mistaken for naivety. All in all, he’s a very good and noble man, and I have a lot of respect for him.”  
“But you don’t like him?”  
“As a friend and ally, I do like him a lot. As a… lover? Not at all.”  
Before Peter could ask any further questions, the trio of young students -- Raven, Alex, and Sean -- all made their way towards the open field.

“Hey Barry,” Sean greeted.  
“Hi Banshee,” Peter replied back.  
The boy smiled when Sean raised his right hand for a high five. However, when he slammed his hand downwards, he found himself swiping air. Looking back up, Sean had raised his extended hand above his head, out of Peter’s reach.  
“Too slow.”  
With a smirk, Peter quickly ran a lap around the mansion. Then, like a chimpanzee, he leaped onto Alex’s back, and then catapulted himself towards Sean’s extended hand. Everyone, especially Alex, was surprised at the boy’s creative problem solving and fast speed. When Peter’s palm connected with Sean’s, a forceful snap could be heard.  
“Not bad, kid,” Raven said.  
As Peter smiled, Sean stumbled backwards due to the unexpected impact. Alex, while remaining still, secretly smirked at the boy’s ingenuity. For a while, Sean and Peter began to converse about random stuff, ranging from superheros to superpowers. Then, their conversation slowly branched out to the other two mutants.  
“Raven, what’s your power?”  
Wordlessly, the blonde was slowly consumed in a wave of blue scales. Then, before Peter knew it, he was staring right at himself. He instinctively leaped back a few feet, much to the older mutant’s amusement. Their snickering, however, influenced the white-haired boy to approach the others with newfound confidence.  
“It’s odd staring at yourself, isn’t it?” Raven, or the other Peter, said.  
“Y-You sound like me too?!”  
“That’s right.”  
“Can you… copy my powers?”  
Despite the boy’s excitement, Raven could detect a bit of fear in his voice. However, it wasn’t fear towards her, but rather the possibility of being replaced. Shifting back to her blonde form, she smirked down.  
“No I can’t.” She could see Peter’s eyes brighten. “I know, it’s a tragedy for all of us.” Her gaze moved from Peter to Erik and Charles. “What are they doing?”  
Then, as if on, cue Erik outstretched his hands to his sides. Everyone, near and far, could see the determination and concentration in Erik’s blue eyes. After a few moments, the metal-bender slowly levitated himself. At first, he remained in a neutral position, hovering about four feet from the ground. Then, with a nod of encouragement from Charles, Erik began to proceed upwards. Soon, he was six feet in the air, then ten, then fifteen.

Thanks to Hank and Charles, the duo discovered that Erik’s ability to control all forms of metal also included creating his own magnetic fields that could be used for levitation. Also, they deducted that he could use any other surrounding metal surfaces to aid him in flight. So now, using the earth’s magnetic fields below him, Erik found himself slowly ascending towards the limitless sky. Erik had never felt more free in his entire life. He began to envision a world where the entire mutant race would experience the same liberation as he currently felt. He imagined creating and protecting a world where mutant kind would be unbound, free from discrimination and ignorance.

Cheers from below finally reached Erik’s ears. Looking down, he could see Charles, Moria, and Hank smiling with pride and astonishment. Then, when his eyes traveled to the other students, he could see the three older mutants cheering him on, filling the silent air with applause and words of encouragement. Peter, on the other hand, remained silent. However, despite the far distance, Erik could see that the boy’s silence heavily contrasted the expression he wore on his face. Peter was looking up at him with disbelief, admiration, and, most importantly, hope. It was almost as if Peter saw him as the superhero he’d always dreamed of. Suddenly, the desire to impress the boy surged through him. Smirking, he moved farther and farther up, relishing the metal beneath his palms. It was strange, Erik had never desired to impress anyone. He believed that those who didn’t understand or value his skills and mindsets weren’t worth any of his time -- he chose to focus on those who believed in, and loved, him from the very beginning. However, with Peter, whether it be due to mere arrogance or an instinct, Erik found himself wanting to impress the young kid. He rose higher and higher, eventually covering nearly forty feet. However, as he quickly realized, powers had limitations. He had risen so high that he lost the feeling of magnetic fields below him. Then, in the blink of an eye, Erik found himself free falling dozens and dozens of feet towards the hard ground.  
“ERIK!!”  
The metal-bender couldn’t speak -- he was too busy trying to grab ahold of any surrounding metal that would halt his fall. Realizing that his attempts were vain, Erik simply gave up and braced for impact. He prepared his body to endure untold damage, ranging from broken legs to internal bleeding. He was ready to-  
His acceptance of pain suddenly came to a complete stop, when he felt cushions meet his elbows and back. For a few seconds, Erik laid on the unexpectedly soft surface in shock while he frantically tried to calm his mind. Eventually, Charles appeared in his line of vision.  
“My friend, are you alright?!”  
Shaking the cobwebs, Erik registered the telepath’s presence and blinked. With assistance from Charles, Erik slowly moved into a sitting position, where he got a perfect view of the scene in front of him.

Peter, who was also kneeling beside him, was staring at him in shock. Erik could see that his small hands were tightly gripping onto what looked like a mattress. Now curious and confused, the metal-bender looked below and found over fifteen cushions and mattresses resting below him, softening his descent.  
“Are you okay?” Peter asked.  
Then, as if a switch had turned on, Erik felt waves and waves of embarrassment surge through him. He had ungracefully fallen in front of his colleagues, students, and the boy, who had previously looked up at him with admiration. For a second time, he had been saved by a little boy…  
“Nice one, Icarus,” Raven shouted from afar.  
Suddenly, without thinking, Erik growled and angrily push himself off of the cushiony surface. Without sparing Peter or the others a single glance, the mutant stormed off back into the mansion. At first, silence filled the tense environment. Then, Charles saw Peter staring down at the grass.  
“Peter, are you okay?”  
The white-haired boy looked up at his mentor, tears beginning to form at the corner of his eyes. “D-Did I make him angry?”  
“Absolutely not! Erik just has an… odd way of expressing gratitude.”  
“If he ever expresses it at all,” Hank mumbled.  
Peter still wasn’t convinced. “Does he hate me?”  
Charles and Hank glanced at each other, unsure of how to answer the question. Moria, who had silently watched the scene unfold, knelt down in front of Peter.  
“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just embarrassed.”  
“Why is he embarrassed? Doesn’t everyone make mistakes?”

Moria wasn’t stupid -- if she were, she wouldn’t be in the freaking CIA. Throughout her time at the mansion, she could see that a small bond was growing between the metal-bender and the runner. Where it came from, and how it gained momentum, still remained a mystery to her. However, despite the missing piece, Moria sensed the duo’s growing relationship. Whenever Peter saw Erik, he would always stare at him as if he were a superhero. After observing Erik’s behavior, Moria deducted that Erik wanted to meet the boy’s expectations by presenting himself to be an invulnerable superhero. The same went with Peter -- earlier, Moria had watched Peter mimicking Erik’s stretches. To some extent, Peter wanted to be like Erik, and Erik wanted to be what the boy envisioned. Their relationship was unexpected, but it wasn’t strange. It mirrored a bond a father and son would have. Although she would never admit it outloud, Moria thought it was beautiful.

“You’re correct, Peter,” Charles chimed in, kneeling beside Moria. “Everyone does make mistakes. However, there are some people in the world who strive for perfection, and who aren’t willing to make any mistakes. Erik can be a little too prideful, and a single error could be seen as a sign of weakness or imperfection, in his eyes.” He placed a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You did nothing wrong, my friend. Give him a few minutes to cool off, and then perhaps you could talk to him. Maybe then he’ll thank you for saving him… again.”  
“Really?”  
“Guaranteed.”  
Peter smiled as the trio of students made their way towards him, Charles, Moria, and Hank. “What’s up with him?” Sean asked.  
“He just needs a couple of minutes to collect himself,” Charles replied.  
“And refuel his cockiness,” Alex added, much to the telepath’s disapproval. “Hey kid,” the blonde began as he looked at Peter, “that was pretty impressive. How many pillows, blankets, and mattresses did you collect?”  
“I-I think nineteen.”  
“In less than fifteen seconds?”  
“Not to mention that the mattresses exceed Peter’s height and weight. He managed to carry nineteen heavy cushions, twice his height, in less than thirty seconds,” Hank chimed in.  
Alex raised his eyebrow. “Damn, superspeed and strength?  You’re pretty good, kid.” Peter smiled, promoting the blonde to properly introduce himself. “Sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Alex.”  
The white-haired boy, now savior of Erik Lehnsherr, nodded his head. “It’s… nice to meet you. I’m Peter.”

Considering that Peter had taken his mattress, Erik found himself sitting on his bed’s wooden frame. He could still feel shame lingering in his mind, but it had faded drastically. With a clear head, Erik began to deconstruct the work Peter had done in order to save him: Peter had to run to the mansion, grab numerous cushions that undoubtedly exceeded his height and weight, run back to the field, place them under Erik, and repeat the entire process. Before Erik could reflect on how he felt about the whole ordeal, as well as Peter’s abilities, a knock came from his doorway.  
“Enter.”  
The door was thrown open, and a mattress appeared. After a few seconds, it fell onto the ground and exposed Peter, who fell on top of the item with a thump. There was a brief moment of silence where the pair stared at each other, both wearing different expressions. Eventually, Peter cleared his throat and moved to stand up.  
“I-I’m sorry, sir. I just wanted to give you back your bed.”  
When Peter attempted to lift the tall mattress, Erik sighed before moving to assist the boy. “Here, you take one end, while I take the other. Deal?”  
Before they knew it, Erik’s mattress was back in its rightful place. After a few more seconds of awkward silence, Erik spoke up.  
“Thank you.”  
“You need something nice to sleep on and-”  
“Not that, Peter.” He sighed. “Thank you for saving me… again.”  
“It’s no problem. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”  
Touched by the boy’s kindness, Erik moved to sit on his bed. He motioned for the boy to join him. Biting down his excitement, Peter made his way over to the bed. Because it was elevated a little higher than Peter's own, the boy had to jump, and somewhat climb up onto the surface. Eventually, the boy was situated beside his mentor, his small legs dangling over the edge.  
“That was impressive. Within a short amount of time, you managed to re-enter and exit the facility in order create a padded surface in such a short time frame. I’ll be frank: I’ve had to lift this mattress all by myself, and the task is far from easy. You managed transport numerous heavy items multiple times and without any assistance. That takes extreme talent.”  
Peter smiled. “Th-Thanks. I liked how high you were flying. I can’t even do that.”  
“Not yet,” Erik corrected. “Our abilities continue to evolve as we age. Given time, we could uncover a way for you to manipulate your abilities so they would make the possibility of flight a reality.”  
“Woah! Really?!”  
“Absolutely.”  
Following a few moments of silence, Peter began a different topic. “Mama says practice makes perfect.”  
“I believe we had this conversation earlier, Peter.”  
“But she also said that messing up is normal. She tells me that messing up helps us grow and learn. I mess up a lot of times, but I don’t let it bother me for too long."  
“What is your point?”  
“Don’t be embarrassed about falling. Like you said, our powers grow as we grow…”

Erik could’ve gone into how failure is seen as opportunity in an enemy’s eyes, and how mistakes can have devastating consequences. However, he decided against it and let the boy be his “mentor” for the evening. He didn’t want to ruin his innocence and optimism, for Peter was still young. Later in life, he would realize that things were not always straightforward and idealistic. But that was later. For now, Erik would relish the boy’s untarnished kindness and hope, secretly wishing that some of it would rub off onto him.

“Thank you, Peter.”  
“You’re welcome, sir.”  
“Please, sir is such a formal and assertive title. I may be guiding you, but I’m not here to control you. Call me Erik.”  
Peter smiled. “Okay si-Erik.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't write about every single day Peter spends with the group. It'd be far too boring. Plus, you all know who these characters are, so I don't really need to spend a lot of time establishing relationships and powers.
> 
> 'Nothing Left' and 'X-Men: The Rise of Apocalypse' are almost finished! I'll have updates posted as soon as possible :D I'm just having too much fun writing this story!!
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of Love?? Please feel free to write 'em down in the comments below :) Don't be shy!!!
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Originally, I planned on having another chapter, as well as other updates, published this week. However, Anton Yelchin's unexpected and tragic passing hit me hard, and I couldn't find the time or heart to properly edit/write. He'd always been an important figure in my life -- in fact, not only was he the first actor I began to follow, but he was also my first celebrity crush ;) He seemed like such a kind, curious, and talented human being ... and I'm heartbroken that he was taken from us so soon, too soon. Live Long and Prosper, Mr. Yelchin  
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

Peter and the others soon fell into a daily routine. In the mornings, Peter and Hank would exercise their abilities outside. The duo would jog, or race, around the facility and trails within the forest. During their runs, Peter and Hank would sometimes converse about mutation and science. However, Hank would get too into the conversation, and Peter would end up getting confused over all of the scientific and medical terms Hank was tossing around. The white-haired boy would ask Hank to clarify a lot of the information he sent, and the genius would happily comply.

After their run, the duo would watch Erik practice controlling his own abilities. They, as well as Charles, would stand beside their friend, and watch him either levitate himself, or summon metal objects from a far distance. Meanwhile, following his fall a week ago, Erik himself learned to keep his mind focused. With help from Charles, the metal-bender learned to block out any distractions to devote all of his energy and strength into the task at hand. Soon enough, he found himself hovering from point a to point b without experiencing major turbulence. This week, he devoted his practice towards levitation and manipulation. Conjuring up metal while keeping himself airborne was far from easy. However, as Peter mentioned time and time again, practice makes perfect. Eventually, during the week, he and Peter would spend an hour or two alone, exercising their own abilities. While Peter timed himself to see how long it took him to disarm twenty plastic dummies that were located across the open field, Erik continued to pursue mastering the balance of levitation and manipulation.

Later, he, Charles, Hank, Peter, and Moria would assist Sean and Alex with their own abilities. Raven already knew how to shift into any being she desired, so her training mostly relied on building strength. While she would train by herself, she would later join everyone in witnessing Sean and Alex exercising their own powers. Hank’s enthusiasm for Sean’s ability to fly was clearly seen, for he would always eagerly introduce his latest outfit, of his design, that he believed would aid Sean in flight. Now, it all rested on Sean.

Meanwhile, Alex’s training was far more disruptive. Considering that he was releasing hot plasma that could incinerate any living being, everyone else, save for Charles and Hank, watched him practice from afar. Still, that did not prevent the blonde from accidentally shooting his energy at the bystanders. Whenever that were the case, it became a little extra practice session for them -- Peter would use his speed to run as far away as possible, Erik would conjure up any nearby metal and create a shield for himself and Charles, Sean would use his sonic scream to alter the energy’s trajectory, and Raven and Hank would use their enhanced speed and agility to book it. All in all, Alex’s sessions turned out to beneficial for everyone!

Some nights, the gang would sit together and eat, talking about life and fun stuff. Other nights, they would go to their rooms for some much needed rest and alone time. Peter and Erik, however, continually sat next to each other. More specifically, they began to meet up on top of the satellite dish and talk, or sometimes sit in silence and watch the serene view. Both mutants didn’t know how it happened, but their private gatherings became a tradition. They would watch the sunset, and even the moon rise, together. They would watch the vibrant orange sky vanish into darkness, which was soon illuminated by millions of stars. Whenever the duo did decide to talk, they often found themselves discussing topics like family and identity. They bared their souls -- save for a few major details and lies -- for each other to process. And the best part? Nobody knew about their little tradition, making its impact far more meaningful and special. It was often moments on the satellite dish that solidified their bond.

“What’s that on your arm?” Peter asked one evening on the satellite dish.  
Erik, who had been daydreaming, looked down at the boy. “What are you talking about?”  
Peter remained silent, but sheepishly pointed to Erik’s left forearm. After a few hesitant moments, the metal-bender sighed before slowly rolling up his sleeve, revealing a small but defining set of numbers. Those numbers took away any form of individuality he had, as a little boy. Those digits, embedded in his skin, continually reminded Erik of the horrors and pain he’d endured, as well as who he fought for. They reminded him of what had been senselessly taken from him -- his identity, his dignity, and his family -- , and what he wanted to take from those who had tortured him. They reminded him that he was a survivor.  
“This is a tattoo. It was given to me by the government.”  
“Why’d they give it to you?”  
Erik swallowed as he pushed down the painful memories of Auschwitz. “I, as well as numerous others, were given specific numbers because the government needed to keep track of everyone. When I was a little boy, the technology we have today didn’t exist. The government, at the time, needed to keep track of those they’d be monitoring, so they tattooed all who were under their command.”  
For obvious reasons, Erik didn’t explain that the government, or Third Reich, had imprisoned millions of people and tattooed them to identify their potential corpses. Meanwhile, Peter, who had been listening intently, cautiously leaned forward in order to examine the ink more carefully. He looked up at Erik and silently asked if he could touch it. However, when Erik nodded in approval, the boy remained still.  
“Did it hurt?” he asked.  
“I’ll admit, the procedure itself wasn’t intolerable. However… it’s what followed that hurted more.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Erik sighed before repositioning his body so that he’d be facing Peter, rather than the forrest. “I was given this tattoo during a very dark period in history. Since then, this mark acts as a reminder of what I had endured, and what I hope others don’t endure.”  
After a few moments, something in Peter’s brain clicked. He also turned away from the view in order to stare at Erik.  
“Did… Did the man who hurt you give this to you?”  
“In some ways, yes. He was part of the government that enforced the practice of marking others.”  
Peter swallowed, unable to fully comprehend the pain Erik had suffered through. When he extended his hand towards the markings, the metal-bender could see the boy’s hand tremble a little bit. Examining the kid’s revealing eyes, Erik could see that Peter was afraid that his mere touch would hurt the older mutant. Wordlessly, Erik gently grabbed the boy’s extended hand and placed it right below the digits.

At first, Peter’s fingertips remained parked right where Erik had placed his hand. However, ever so slowly, he nudged them closer and closer, until they were resting on top of the tattoo. However, when the boy’s fingertips began to gently circle around, as well as on top of,  the markings, it had set something off inside of Erik. Peter’s touch seemingly reversed all of the pain the marking conjured up -- all of the torture, loneliness, and death seemed to lessen. While it didn’t necessarily erase the damage, it definitely soothed it. Peter’s touch, as well as innocent nature, comforted him.

“What happened to everyone else who had these marks? Did that man hurt them too?”  
Erik sighed, retracted his forearm, and placed it at his side, effectively hiding it from view. “Your curiosity is welcome and admired… but there are some things that aren’t meant to be answered. At least, not right now.”  
“M’not a baby,” Peter complained.  
“I’m not belittling you in any way, Peter,” Erik defended.  _'I'm trying to protect you.'_  
When Peter pouted, Erik gently nudged the boy’s shoulder. “Peter, I guarantee you that, in time, all of your questions will be answered.”  
“Okay,” the other moaned, still annoyed that his mentor wouldn’t answer some of his questions. “I’m sorry that the man hurt you like that,” he added, motioning his head towards the now covered tattoo. “I’m sorry if he was a part of a government that hurt you and others.”  
Erik turned back to the sunset. “Your sympathy is appreciated, but unnecessary. Remember, there is no need to apologize if you aren’t the cause of the situation. You don’t-”  
“Mama always says that apologizing shows that you care. Wouldn’t you want someone to care than to not have anyone care at all?”  
“Sympathy and caring, while comforting, doesn’t erase the damage. I’d rather someone save their breath and direct it towards those who deserve it, who still have a chance at happiness.”  
Peter shrugged. “Well… I think you deserve it.”  
Erik looked down at the boy, who quickly diverted his attention towards the scenic view -- whether it be due to embarrassment or fear remained a mystery. However, it was Erik’s soft voice that brought Peter back to Erik.  
“Thank you,” he said with the utmost sincerity.  
When Erik turned back to the sunset, Peter let a small smile slip out.

A few days later, Peter and Erik were training outside together. The metal-bender was levitating as usual, but this time he playing with bits of metal in his right hand. Having a bird’s eye point of view, Erik could see everything from below him… including a small white-haired boy falling onto his knees and skidding onto the ground. Instincts kicking in, Erik quickly dropped all of the metal he conjured up and descended towards the ground. As he got closer to Peter, he forced himself to remain calm and collected, not wanting to express the fear and concern he was truly feeling.  
“Peter,” he began as he gracefully landed beside the boy, “are you alright?”  
“Ow,” was his only response. “My eye hurts.”  
Erik knelt down in front of Peter and gently lifted the boy’s chin. Now looking eye to eye, Erik could see that Peter’s right was angry red. He carefully scanned the boy’s dark eyes until he noticed a small thing sticking from the corner. Erik used his left hand to gently open Peter’s eyes further, much to the runner’s confusion.  
“Peter, I’m going to hold your eye open. There appears to be something in it that is most likely making you agitated. Hold still.”  
Using his free hand, Erik carefully reached forward and pinched at the object. After a few seconds, as well as curses, Erik grabbed a hold of-  
“It’s a dead fly,” he said.  
He wiped the creature on his sweatpants. When he saw a couple of tears flowing down Peter’s cheek due to the irritation, Erik used his sleeve to gently swipe them away.  
“Has that happened often?” he asked as he stood up.  
“Sometimes,” Peter replied. “My eyes always get dry whenever I run… but I’ve never had a bug fly into them.”  
Erik smiled before reached for Peter’s hand, which the boy gratefully took to stand. “Perhaps it’s because you’ve expanded your speed.”  
“Really? You mean, I’m getting faster?!”  
“Yes. If you weren’t, the fly wouldn’t have died on impact. You’re getting stronger.”  
Erik could see the boy’s dark irises light up. “Well… what should I do? I don’t want flies to hit me when I run.”  
The metal-bender looked up at the sky, trying to come up with a temporary solution. Then, his brain clicked.  
“Meet me here tomorrow morning. I think I’ll have a solution for your problem.”  
Peter smiled. “Okay,” he replied while rubbing his eye. “Thank you, Erik.”

The next day, Erik and Peter stood in front of the large field. They hadn’t seen each other following their previous training day, so Peter was dying with curiosity.  
“Hello Peter. Are you ready for a small surprise?”  
Right when the boy eagerly nodded, while swaying on his heels, Charles’ voice could be heard from the back entrance. After receiving Charles’ request, Erik nodded before looking back down at Peter. “I’m sorry, Peter, but it looks like we’ll have to postpone the surprise.”  
The boy’s happiness instantly decreased, but he still didn’t complain. “Okay,” he said, or rather whined.  
Erik ruffled the boy’s white hair before taking off back towards the mansion.

“Where is everyone?” Erik inquired as Charles led him to a car parked at the main entrance.  
“The children have all gone into New York City for a day. They wanted to enjoy the city life, and all of its expenses, for a bit. Moria is accompanying them too.”  
“She is?”  
“The kids insisted she come along… so she could pay for some things. Also, I wanted her there to keep an eye on them, just in case something goes wrong. The reason I called you here is because I found a lead on a another mutant with super strength.”  
“Interesting. How did-”  
“Cerebro. He’s residing in a cabin in Maine, and if we head over there today, we can come back home around eight at night. Are you in?”  
“I’m- Wait… what about Peter?”  
“I forgot he was here. Perhaps we could take him-”  
“Absolutely not!”  
“Perhaps it would be beneficial for him to meet new mutants outside of the mansion. He’ll be introduced to different powers, explore the world a bit more, and be under our supervision.” Erik shook his head. “Erik, do you really trust a six year old boy, who’s uncovering his powers, to remain at a large facility, unsupervised? He’ll be safer with us.” Erik began to reconsider, prompting Charles to conclude with a promise. “My friend, I promise that no harm will come to the boy.”  
Soon enough, after realizing that Charles was right, Erik nodded. Charles closed his eyes and telepathically reached Peter. In a few seconds, the boy appeared right in front of the pair.  
“Hi Professor!”  
“Hello Peter. Erik and I are heading over to Maine to recruit a new mutant, and we were wondering if-”  
“Can I come?! Please?! I’ll behave and won’t get into trouble!! Please please please-”  
“Alright, Peter,” Erik interrupted, feeling a tiny headache forming. “You can come with us. But you will do exactly everything we tell you, alright?”  
“Cross my heart.” To prove it, Peter actually crossed his heart with his right hand, while holding up his left hand, similar to how a person swears under oath.  
“Great. Gentlemen, shall we?”  
With a nod, the three mutants hoped into the silver 1954 Buick Skylark and took off into an unknown adventure.

The cabin was hidden amidst a sea of trees. As the car dove deeper and deeper into the dense environment, Peter couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit frightened. If something were to happen, would anyone be able to find them? Would anyone be able to help them? That said, Peter’s confidence in Charles and Erik outweighed any fears he had. They were older, far more trained, and far more powerful. They knew what they were doing… didn’t they? When the trio parked in front of the isolated cabin, they emerged from the car and stared at the seemingly empty facility.  
“Are you sure we’re at the right place?”  
“I think so.”  
“You think?”  
“Let’s just knock and see if anyone’s home.”  
Erik rolled his eyes. “Fine. Peter,” he began as he looked down at the boy, “remember what we talked about?”  
“I won’t disobey you or Charles,” the boy answered, looking down at his feet.  
“Correct. So… are you ready?”  
Peter looked at the cabin before looking back up at Erik. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the fluffiness. I promise that the next chapter will have action!!! I highly recommend people check out an interview with James McAvoy, entitled "X-Men: First Class Deleted Scene Revealed", in order to understand what is about to happen:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KfmfxhAh-_s&feature=youtu.be
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Don't be shy :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> I'm ALMOST done with Nothing Left!!! I only have to make a few more edits before I post it! Thank you for your patience and kind words :)
> 
> Here is another chapter!!!  
> Important: This is based off of a deleted scene from X-Men: First Class :D James McAvoy describes the scene in an interview, so I'll leave that with y'all: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KfmfxhAh-_s&feature=youtu.be  
> This has a lot of action, so I apologize if the scenes are written poorly. I suck at action sequences because I'm not sure about how much detail I should include or skim over.
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

As the trio approached the wooden facility, they could see numerous greens surround it -- weeds the size of trees, vines as thick as snakes, and mold as big as Peter’s hand consumed the facility. The wood itself looked faded, as if it had not been maintained in over ten decades. Old bird’s nests and fallen leaves covered the rooftop. All in all, the home looked like it was a part of the hidden setting.

To their surprise, when Erik knocked on the fading door, muffled stomps could be heard from behind the barrier. Suddenly, the door was thrown open and the mutants found themselves staring up (yes, up) at a seven-foot-six lumberjack.  
“Holy shit,” Erik breathed out.  
Although the humongous man was bald, he wore a thick ginger beard that compensated for the lack of hair. Anger, confusion, and reluctance rested in the man’s piercing green eyes. Underneath his thick red and white flannel shirt was muscle, solid muscle.

As Charles examined the stranger, Erik was in a different zone. Looking at the tall man, and the rage in his eyes, Erik knew that this person could be a potential threat to him, Charles, and especially Peter. He considered sending the boy back to the car, or better yet, leaving this place all together. However, Charles’ words began to reverberate in his head. As long as the boy was with him and Charles, no harm would come. Erik wouldn’t let it. He wanted -- no, he needed -- to be brave for Peter. Rubbing the boy’s back, he cleared his throat and looked up at the mutant.  
“Good day. My friend and I are looking for a moment of your time.”  
“What for?!”  
Peter flinched at the powerful that echoed throughout the forest. Charles felt his bravado briefly falter, but he quickly recovered.  
“My friend and I are mutants, beings who possess a genetic trait that provides us with superhuman abilities. We believe that you also possess the gene, and we were wondering if you wanted to accompany us to-”  
A loud crash from inside stole the man’s attention. “Come with me,” he ordered.  
Erik and Charles glanced at each other before slowly making their way into the cabin.

It was surprisingly big. There was a faded red carpet laying right in the center of the wooden floor. On the far right side, there was a small hand-carved couch that held old cushions and pillows. There was a single light hanging above the room, acting as the only source of light, excluding sunlight. However, what caught everyone’s attention were the numerous animal heads that rested on the walls -- deers, squirrels, and even a bear. They covered a majority of the walls, leaving no room for other creative decorations. The crashing noise came from the far left side of the room, where a bleeding deer was twitching. Based on the lacerations, Erik deducted that the mammal was hit by a car, or some kind of powerful force. Charles couldn’t read the animal’s mind, but he could tell that the poor creature was suffering. And then, as if on cue, the larger man grabbed the deer by its neck and smoothly twisted it, effectively killing it with a single snap. While Erik and Charles flinched, Peter was absolutely petrified! All of the blood and twitching, plus the sickening snap, embedded themselves into Peter’s mind. He accidentally let out a yelp of surprise and hid behind Erik.

“I, uhhh… I-Is now a bad time?” Charles asked  
“Sit,” the man ordered.  
_‘Charles,’_ Erik telepathically began as he moved to sit on the thick, leather couch, ‘ _Keep your guard on_.’  
' _Of course, my friend_ ,’ the brunette silently replied.  
When the trio took a seat, they all sank into the soft material. When Peter struggled to keep himself upright, the tall stranger suddenly pointed his large finger at him.  
“Hair,” he began.  
“Wh-What?” Peter squeaked out.  
“You have weird hair.”  
The white-haired boy miserably groaned, unconsciously running his own small hand through his silky hair. However, when Erik opened his mouth to defend the boy, Peter elbowed the older mutant, silently asking him to drop the topic.  
“So,” Charles began, trying to ease the tension, “why do you have deer inside your home?”  
“Need food,” the man replied, using both of his hands to rip off one of the deer’s legs.  
Peter didn’t know which horrified him more: the sickening sound of the limb being torn off, the sight of blood spurting onto the carpet and walls, or the fact that the man ripped the limb off as if it were a piece of paper. All three mutants had to look away when the mutant continued to rip off each limb. Then, the tall man used his bare teeth to bite into the creature’s main belly, tearing apart the skin like a lion. Once he got a big enough hole, he used his humongous hands and split open the remaining skin, revealing nothing but muscle, flesh, and bones.  
“Seriously, is now a bad time?” Charles asked, closing his eyes at the scene.  
“Not a bad time,” the man replied.  
After a few more agonizing seconds, the man finished gathering all of the meat. He tossed the white bones, and other inedible bits, into the corner of the room, where a pile was already resting. He placed the raw meat into a small compartment underneath the floorboards, and kicked away the corpse, causing it to skid into the far side of the room..  
  
“What do you want?”  
The blood made the man’s presence far more intimidating and deadly. His new appearance seemingly amplified his deep voice, enormous height, and cutting green eyes. He didn’t look like a mere giant anymore -- he looked like a mountain.  
“We, uhhh, are mutants,” Erik began, trying to recover from the recent events. “My friend and I are looking for men and women similar to us. We’re looking for future allies, brothers and sisters.”  
“Don’t want to be your brother.”  
“I didn’t mean literally. I… Charles, feel free to contribute to the conversation at any time.”  
“We’re trying to recruit beings who possess the X-Gene,” Charles chimed in.  
“Why?”  
“There’s a looming threat in our world. A man named Sebastian Shaw seeks to turn the world against each other, and thus destroy it.” As Charles continued, Peter could see Erik’s left hand clench in itself when Shaw was mentioned. “My friend and I do not want anyone, man or mutant, to perish due to one man’s desire to control the world. We’ve already recruited some mutants in an effort to stop him, but we do need more help.”  
The tall man narrowed his eyes and scanned the two older mutants suspiciously. “Is that kid part of your army?”  
While Peter tilted his head, Erik quickly terminated the man’s inquiry. “Absolutely not! He’s just a boy, and-”  
“Then why is he here with you two?”  
“We were a little short on babysitters.”  
“M’not a baby,” Peter growled, glaring at Erik.  
“The point is,” Charles intervened, trying to defuse the rising tension, “that the boy will not assist us in our fight against Shaw.”  
After a few silent moments, the man began to approach the trio on the couch. “Why do men like yourselves stir up trouble?” Before Charles or Erik could respond, the larger mutant continued to muse aloud. “Why do men like yourselves disrupt peace? I was fine here until you two showed up!”  
“Charles, we have to go,” Erik mumbled as he grabbed ahold of Peter’s wrist.  
“You want others to fight your war!”  
“Mass destruction is not our war! It’s everyone’s war, and it affects everyone,” Charles countered.  
“Perhaps it’s for the best. Mutant kind can never win!! We’re always hurt by men and women who are normal!!”  
That grabbed Peter’s attention. “Wh-What do you mean, sir?”  
The larger man tilted his head, intrigued by the boy’s question. “I lost my mother and sister because of humans. They killed my family ‘cause they don’t like our kind. Humans seek to destroy anything that is different. Humans don’t like different. They want everything the same!!” The taller man, who had covered a great distance since his speech, kneeled in front of Peter, much to Erik’s dismay. “Mutants will never win in this world.”

That was like a splash of cold water, or a slap across the face. In the comics, all of the superheroes were admired by everyone, except their main enemies. Whenever Batman and Robin saved the day, civilians would always shower them with praise, not exile them. They appreciated them, but never turned against them; laud them, but never criticize; love them, not hate or kill them. Peter didn’t even want to begin to think about someone hurting, or killing, his family just because he possessed a superhuman quality. That thought alone petrified, and infuriated, him. The once uncompromisable pride for being unique now began to waver.

“I’ve encountered men like yourselves,” the man continued, moving his gaze to Erik and Charles. “They recruit mutants, claiming that they are for the race. In reality, they abduct them and experiment on them.”  
“Th-They do?” Peter asked, looking at Erik for answers.  
“Absolutely not,” Erik shot back.  
“Why do you lie to the kid?” the man began. “He’s a mutant, is he not? He needs to know the reality he’ll be living in!”  
While Erik sent a deadly glare at the stranger, Peter turned towards a small mirror that rested on the opposite wall. Looking at his reflection, he could now only see a potential target. His physical traits already put him under everyone’s radar… but once people discover his powers, he and his family would be targets.

Meanwhile, Erik was glued to the boy’s declining optimism… and innocence. Since Peter had discovered his mutation, Erik spent a good amount of energy trying to fuel the boy’s hope. He had hoped that Peter wouldn’t succumb to man’s fear and hatred towards the unknown or the uncontrollable. He dreamed of the boy living a free life of opportunity and acceptance. He just wanted Peter to be proud of himself, not afraid. So now, seeing him in a state of utter confusion and despondency tore a hole in his heart.

“How did you find me?” the man asked.  
“I’m a telepath,” Charles responded. “I used a machine called Cerebro, and we managed to track you down.”  
Then, as if a switch went off, the tall mutant became angry. “You used a machine to track me down? You spied on me?!”  
Erik and Peter, who both remained silent, snapped their heads at the unexpected tone. Meanwhile, Charles frantically glanced at Erik, silently ordering him to find as much metal as he could, just in case things went sideways. Then, to fuel the stranger’s rage, his green eyes noticed a small card resting inside Charles’ coat pocket. Without any warning, he reached forward and snatched the card. After inspecting it for a few seconds, his eyes burned with absolute rage and betrayal. He had found Moria’s CIA card.  
“You two work for the government,” he stated.  
Nobody had a response. While they didn’t necessarily work for Moria and the CIA, they did have connections with them. Either way… that single slip sealed their fates.  
Suddenly, the man stood up to his full height and snatched Charles by his throat. Immediately, Erik stood up to fight the man, but was instantly knocked down to the ground with a single punch to the cheek.  
“Erik!” Peter called out.  
The metal-bender, who recovered from the blow, looked at Peter. “You need to run!!”  
“But-”  
“Do not disobey me!!! We’ll be fine!! GO!”

Erik didn’t wait to see the boy’s response. Instead, he extended his hand towards the giant. However, much to his utter shock, he couldn’t find a single trace of metal that he could conjure up and manipulate -- there was the car, but he needed it to be in good condition, just in case the trio needed to make a hasty retreat. Without thinking, Erik leaped from the ground and onto the man’s muscular arm. When the elbow folded due to the unexpected weight, the three older mutants fell onto the ground. Charles, who was finally given the opportunity to breathe, frantically crawled backwards towards the deer carcass.  

Peter, who was now standing on top of the couch, watched the large mutant pin Erik onto the ground with his boot. Whenever Erik tried to crawl away, the man would simply stomp on the metal-bender’s chest, eliciting an audible and sickening cracking sound. However, when Erik unintentionally let out a moan of pain, all of Peter’s fears seemed to disappear. With a deep breath, Peter raced up to the larger mutant and kicked him right in the back. To his surprise, the mutant actually stumbled away from Erik and ended up crashing into one of his decorated walls. When the man regained his stance, he found himself staring down at the white-haired boy, who stood protectively in front of the bleeding metal-bender.  
“L-L-Leave him alone,” the boy demanded.  
“Peter,” Erik mumbled as he weakly reached to grasp the boy’s jacket. “Don’t.”  
After seeing that man hurt Charles and Erik, both whom were seen as mentors, Peter didn’t care if he was disobeying Erik’s orders: he was tired of watching those he cared about getting pushed around. At first, the giant stood in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Then, with a mighty growl, he charged (yes, that seven-foot-six mutant charged) towards the pair.

Then, similar to when Erik lost control over his levitation, time seemed to slow down. Every detail -- the different blood spatters, the miniscule specks of dust, the drips of sweat trickling down the giant’s nose, and occasional gusts of wind -- became far more prominent. Time seemed to have frozen everyone and everything. Then, Peter’s mind began to outline different routes that would assist Erik and Charles, as well as incapacitate the larger stranger. He could see numerous pathways that were waiting for his approval, as well as initiative. After a few careful seconds, Peter took off with a smirk.

Using his super-speed, Peter zipped underneath the giant’s outstretched legs before circling around the entire facility. As he ran around, he gracefully leaped over dozens of furniture, as well as the deer carcass. When he gained enough speed, he ran back up to the large mutant, who had begun to reach for Erik’s throat, and sent a mighty kick to the mutant’s knees. When the mutant let out a sharp gasp of pain, time once again resumed at its normal speed.

Meanwhile, Erik was surprised by the sudden reaction. As his opponent fell to his knees, the metal-bender looked around the tall frame and saw Peter standing behind him. Erik could see the boy quickly retracting his small foot from the giant’s flesh. Before he could comment on Peter’s disobedience, a lightbulb turned on. Erik took advantage of his opponent’s now shorter stance by launching himself onto the mutant’s back. His time at the camps, as well as being a self-certified Nazi hunter, allowed him to ignore the protest his ribs projected. When he was situated onto the mutant’s back, he began to desperately for anything, metal or not, that could be used to knock out or kill the enormous mutant. Then, with the unexpected force of a bus, the giant stood up and ran backwards into a solid wall. The impact of the force caused Erik’s vision to lose focus, but he refused to let go. The giant, now more angry than ever, repeated this action. Every blunt to Erik’s back sent a wave of agony through his ribs, making him feel light-headed and nauseous. When the mutant rammed his back into a wall for a sixth time, Erik’s grip finally slipped. He slid off of the man’s back and ended up lying in a crumpled heap against the wall, which now had a massive hole.

Peter quickly retook his mentor’s position and leaped onto the taller mutant’s back. However, unlike Erik, he began to lean backwards in the hopes that it would direct the larger mutant to a certain corner of the room. In order to assist his attempts, he had swiped a blanket from the couch and tightly wound it around the mutant’s green eyes, effectively cutting off his vision. As the mutant blindly stumbled towards the near right corner of the room, Erik motivated himself to stand up and aid Peter. When he approached the struggling duo, he began to assist Peter by pushing the man towards the wall. When the trio rammed into the wall, the impact caused one the mounted bear head to fall onto the ground. Unfortunately, Peter’s plan came to an end when the giant accidentally slipped on a wet, slippery substance; more specifically, blood.

The giant lost his balanced and ended up falling onto the ground, bringing with him both Peter and Erik. While the boy quickly recovered from the fall, Erik was a different story. When he fell, his head had slammed against a coffee table. His vision began to go in and out of focus, and a ringing sound slowly filled his hearing. However, once he saw the giant grab Peter by his throat, everything shot back into focus. Erik watched in horror as the enormous mutant lifted the small boy, by the throat, into the air. He could see Peter trying to pry those enormous hands from around his neck. Then, much to Erik’s surprise, Peter stopped struggling and leaned closer towards the man’s forearm. During the scuffle, the man’s flannel shirt got torn, revealing a familiar set of numbers that Erik himself beard: an identification tattoo from the Holocaust.  
“Y-You have them too,” Peter gasped out, risking strangulation when he removed one of his hands from the man’s wrists to point at the markings.  
The giant narrowed his eyes before directing his gaze to where Peter was pointing. “So what?”  
“He-He has… them too.”  
The man’s green eyes slowly moved from his forearm to Erik, who still laid on the floor. “You’re a survivor,” he calmly stated.  
“Let him go,” Erik ordered.  
Oblivious, the larger mutant approached the metal-bender. “You were in the camps, like me. You were tortured like me…”  
Peter, who was beginning to fade in and out of consciousness, felt a small wave of energy at the statement. "T-Tortured?”  
The man looked back at the fading boy. “Yes. These markings were given to prisoners of war and innocent civilians, all who were rounded like cattle.”  
“Wh-Why… w-were they… tortured?” Peter mumbled.  
“Because we were different. We were exploited,” the man continued, “and tortured because we were different. Jews gypsies, blacks, political prisoners, and mutants -- those who were different from the Germans were taken from their homes, starved, beaten, turned into laborers, tortured, and even killed… all because they were different.” He brought Peter closer to his face, revealing his surprisingly white, sharp teeth. “Do you see why I don’t trust humanity?” he growled.  
“Jesus, let him go!” Erik shouted. “You’re killing him!!!”  
“Why do you fight alongside the CIA,” the man asked Erik. “Why are you assisting those who have hurt our kind?”  
“I will explain everything later. But please, let Peter go!”  
As the man continued to stare at Erik, the metal-bender glued his eyes to Peter, who was barely holding onto consciousness. Peter’s eyes were now blankly staring up at the ceiling, his arms hung limply at his sides, and an audible wheeze began to fill the air. He needed to free Peter right now. Pushing all of the dizziness and pain aside, Erik pushed himself to his feet and charged towards the duo. However, the man thought Erik’s actions were directed towards him, so, without thinking, he tossed the boy aside and propped himself into a defensive stance. Erik froze when he saw Peter go flying across the cabin and through a window.  
“PIETRO!!!”  
Ignoring his opponent’s presence, Erik ran to the broken window and felt his heart drop.

When he made it to the window, he saw Peter’s limp body sliding off of the car they’d arrived in. As the boy fell onto the ground, Erik could see some blood resting on top of the front windshield, which now wore a bad crack. He snapped back down to Peter, who laid unconscious beside the car. Then, an incomprehensible feeling washed through Erik: absolute rage. The physical wounds that the paranoid, oblivious giant inflicted on a six year old boy -- massive bruising around the throat, small cuts from the glass, a gash that continued to slowly coat Peter’s face with blood -- was what ignited, fueled, and even amplified Erik’s rage. That monster, mutant or not, had hurt Peter.  
Erik’s vision went red.

Charles, who continued to recover from his own strangulation, spent the entire confrontation trying to access the man’s mind. Sitting beside the rotting deer corpse, the telepath reached to the man’s mind in the hopes that he would be able to either calm him down or knock him out. However, every time he touched the man’s consciousness, he was only met with a brick wall. That has never happened in his entire life. In the past, the only consciousness he didn’t have access to were animals, who, in comparison to humans and mutants, weren’t the most intelligent. Either their opponent was a telepath, or just plain dumb. Eventually, Charles ruled out telepathy -- if the man were a telepath, he would’ve been able to have read Erik or his mind and realize that they weren’t, in fact, part of the CIA or any anti-mutant group. Still, the revelation didn’t stop him from trying to penetrate the man’s barriers. Charles, however, kept his distance. As a pacifist, the British mutant didn’t want to engage in the confrontation taking place: violence wasn’t always the solution to-  
“PIETRO!!!”  
Charles’ attempts were cut short when he saw his opponent toss Peter out of the cabin and through a window, similar to how a young schoolboy chucked rocks at a window, with little effort and zero remorse. The telepath watched his friend run towards the broken window.

 _‘Good heavens, is he alright?’_ Charles projected to Erik, still wanting to remaing under the radar.  
Then, for the first time since their partnership, Charles saw fear in Erik’s eyes. That fear quickly melted into absolute rage, making his friend look like a serial killer. The British mutant had never seen such a quick transition in emotions in his entire life. When he tried to access Erik’s consciousness, he was only greeted with fury and vexation. For a few seconds, the entire cabin went silent, save for the huffs coming from Erik. Then, in the blink of an eye, Erik charged towards the larger mutant and began to viciously punch the man’s face.

Charles had seen Erik during dark moments, occasionally exposing his friend’s suppressed rage and anxiety. However, never had he ever seen his friend express THIS much anger and hatred towards a single being. In all honesty, he had expected Shaw to elicit such an emotional response from Erik. However, it was a simple, dimwitted mutant that revealed the beast within Erik. Charles watched his friend relentlessly send punch after punch at the larger mutant. Soon enough, he could see blood coat his friend’s knuckles. He could even hear his friend’s hand crack due to the vicious impact.  
“Erik, that’s enough,” Charles gently ordered, unable to tear his eyes away from the gruesome scene in front of him. “You need to stop!” No reply. “Erik, you’re going to kill him!”  
“I don’t care!!!” the metal-bender snarled back.  
Having enough, Charles unfortunately raised his voice. “Erik, stop!!”  
Erik’s blows finally ceased not because he wanted to stop, but because his friend forced him to stop. That action turned the tables. Taking advantage of Erik’s brief (and accidental) mind control, the stranger sent a mighty punch to Erik’s face before kicking the mutant away from him. When Erik came to a stop on the floor, the giant straddled the other’s already damaged ribs and began to throw violent, even more painful punches at Erik.  
“You’re a traitor!!!” he shouted in between punches.  
Shocked, Charles forced his fear aside and ran towards the duo. As he somewhat anticipated, he was met with a punch to the nose, sending him onto the ground. Charles ignored the blood trickling from his nose and continued his attempts to pull the man off of his friend. However, he was quickly sent backwards when the mutant punched him right in the lips. Stumbling backwards, Charles wiped some of the blood from his chin and watched the stranger brutally beat his friend. Soon enough, a familiar feeling of anger washed through the telepath.

Looking around, he saw the decapitated bear head patiently resting against the far wall. He ran to the item, brought it back to the other pair, and instantly dropped it on top of the mutant’s head. Why did he do this? Because during the earlier confrontation, Charles managed to dip into Peter’s mind and listen to the boy’s plan before everything went sideways. Their opponent was stunned by the unexpected darkness and stood up, off of Erik. Instead of doing the logical thing and ripping off the head, the giant merely stumbled around the ruined cabin, knocking down furniture and decorations.  
_‘Huh, he really is dimwitted.’  
_ Charles knew that the stranger was past the point of talking, so he looked down at Erik, who knew what had to be done… for their sake. Wordlessly, Charles helped his friend stand up before walking alongside him towards the struggling mutant. Then, Charles moved behind the taller mutant and kicked the back of his knees, allowing Erik perfect access to the man’s neck. Then, with one swift move, Erik grabbed the decapitated bear’s head and twisted it until he heard a snap. Knowing that the man was finally dead, he let go of the head and watched the giant’s body fall to floor.

Silence filled the cabin, save for occasional gasps for air. While Charles wiped the blood from his nose and lip, Erik merely swayed from side to side, too weak to lift his arms.  
“Ugh,” Charles said, trying to lighten the mood. “That poor man… I’m glad you did the dirty work, though. I don’t think I would’ve been able to bear it.” He expected his pun to earn him a snicker, but he was instead met with tired panting. “Are you okay, Erik?”  
The metal-bender’s tired blue eyes met Charles’ own. “Check on Peter,” he mumbled.  
“But you’re-”  
“Check on him… please.”  
Whether it be due to exhaustion or a change in attitude, that was one of the very few times Charles heard Erik plead. He wanted to respect the man’s wishes, considering that he had just been through hell. Smoothing back his brown, fluffy hair, the telepath nodded before taking off towards their youngest friend. When his friend left, Erik weakly moved his gaze to the broken window, where he could see Peter still unconscious, but with more blood trickling down his face. He tried to take a step towards the door, but waves and waves of pain surged through his upper body. His wounds, plus the exertion the confrontation required, had taken a serious toll on him.  
He needed to close his eyes… just for one second.

Charles threw the door open and took in as much fresh air as his lungs would allow. Moving away from the horrid stench of corpses and blood liberated his heart and mind. However, once his eyes moved from the blue sky to the small, motionless figure on the ground, Charles was brought back to reality. When he was close enough, he knelt down beside the boy and gently turned him onto his back. The telepath was greeted with small lacerations littering the boy’s face, as well as a nasty gash on the side of his head. Blood from the wounds coated parts of the boy’s face, however, the wounds overall were superficial.  
“Peter,” he whispered, giving the boy a gentle shake. “Peter, can you hear me?” Nothing. “Come now, Erik will not be happy if you do not return to the land of the living. Believe me, he’s already a handful, and I don’t think I’ll be able to deal with any additional mood swings. Wake up.”  
After a few, long minutes, Charles was greeted with a soft groan. Peter’s eyes fluttered before slowly peeling open. His black irises had to adjust to the bright sky, but they eventually found Charles’ own warm baby blue eyes staring down at him.  
“Charles?” he whispered.  
The telepath nodded. “Hello Peter,” he replied with a warm smile. “How are you feeling?”  
“My throat hurts." A long pause. "Did… you win?”  
“ **We** won, Peter. We managed to… subdue the mutant, but it wouldn’t have been possible without your heroic actions.” Before Peter could smile, a more serious tone cut him off. “However, we will need to talk about disobeying orders.”  
“He was hurting you two. If you want to yell at me, then it’s okay, but I… I don’t regret helping you both.”  
Charles, moved by the boy’s confession, slipped his arm behind Peter’s back and gently pulled him into a sitting position. “You sustained some minor wounds,” he informed as the boy hissed at the pain. “Nothing that a little duct tape and tea won’t fix.”  
When Charles helped the boy stand up, he had to briefly act as a sturdy support system to assist Peter, who was slowly adjusting to his vertical position. After a few moments, as well as deep breaths, the runner looked up at his mentor and smiled.  
“Thank you,” he said. “Where’s Erik?”  
Charles looked back at the cabin’s entrance, hoping to see Erik leaning against the doorframe. “I… don’t know. Peter, I need to clean up the car before we head out. Perhaps you could check in on our friend.”  
“Will you be okay?”  
“The threat it over, Peter. I’ll be fine.”  
Peter nodded before walking towards the ruined cabin.

The once decent facility now looked like a war-zone. Furniture was scattered across the wooden floor, a window was broken, holes and dents covered the walls, and two motionless bodies laid on opposite sides of the room. As soon as Peter saw Erik lying on the ground, all of the mess around his faded away.  
“E-Erik?” he squeaked out.  
When he didn’t get a reply, he zipped up to his friend, avoiding all of the debris and obstacles. He slid onto his knees beside Erik and leaned down to examine Erik’s state. Cuts and bruises covered Erik’s face. Blood from the lacerations made the metal-bender’s appearance far more haunting. Within the silence of the cabin, Peter could hear wet and labored intakes of air from Erik. All in all, his mentor looked dead.  
“E-Erik?” he asked again, his voice raised a little higher. “Erik, are you okay?” When he carefully shook Erik’s shoulder, there was no response. “Erik?” He continued to shake his friend’s shoulder, and would only receive a lolling head as a response. “Erik, wake up.” No response. “E-E-Erik?!” Peter, now feeling his anxiety rise, began to shake his friend even harder. “Erik?! Wake up!! Come on, get up!!!” His voice began to waiver, and tears began to sting his eyes. “P-P-Please wake up!!!” At this point, Peter didn’t even care if he was hurting his friend: he just wanted to see Erik awake. “ERIK!!!”  
No matter how hard he shook, Erik’s head would simply loll limply to the side. After a few more seconds, Peter felt his lips quiver and he began to cry. He didn’t like seeing his friend, someone he considered a father figure of some kind, in this state. He didn't like feeling this powerless. Peter’s eyes frantically darted from Erik’s closed eyes to the slightly elevated rise and fall of his chest.  
“Erik,” he gritted out through suppressed sobs, “please wake up!!”  
Realizing that his attempts were futile, Peter resorted to crying on top of Erik’s chest. He buried his face in the metal-bender’s black sweater, letting the fabric absorb the endless stream of tears. His sobs were muffled by the thick material. He didn’t know how long he’d been crying, but when an unexpected pair of hands gently rested on his shoulder, Peter unconsciously grabbed onto Erik’s sweater. The hands tried to pry him off of Erik’s unconscious form, but the white-haired boy wasn’t having any of it.

“Let me go!” he yelled, frantically trying to hold onto his mentor.  
“Peter,” a familiar voice gently whispered. “Everything is okay.”  
“NO!” When two arms wrapped themselves around his waist, lifting him away from Erik, Peter began to kick and claw at the person responsible for separating him from his friend. “Let me go!!!!”  
“Peter, everything is-”  
“I don’t want to leave him!!”  
The arms finally lost their grip, and Peter instantly ran back to Erik. When he looked back around, he found himself staring at-  
“Ch-Charles?”  
The telepath knelt down and raised his hands in surrender. “Peter, I understand that you’re worried about Erik. But trust me, he will be fine. He’s endured far worse injuries than a couple of bruises, cuts, and broken ribs.”  
“Why isn’t he waking up?!” Peter asked as he began to shake Erik again. “I-Is he dead?!”  
“He’s merely unconscious. He’s still breathing, and I still have access to his consciousness.” Charles began to slowly approach the distressed mutant. “Peter, I promise you that he will be okay.”  
After a few moments of hesitation, Peter reluctantly moved away from Erik and walked towards Charles. “What do we do now?” Peter asked as his other mentor guided him to a still upright chair.  
Charles situated the youngest mutant onto the chair before moving towards the kitchen, where he grabbed numerous washcloths and ran them under warm water. He returned to Peter’s side and began to dab at the boy’s wounds and dry blood.  
“I want to clean ourselves up before we drive back to the mansion. We won’t do anyone good if we succumb to infections. We’ll drive back and try to tend to Erik’s wounds as best as we can… at least until Hank and the others return back.”  
When Charles finished cleaning Peter, he quickly wiped away the dried trickles of blood on his own face. He then moved over to his friend and began to carefully wipe at the wounds and blood that covered his face. As Charles cleaned Erik’s face, Peter watched the interaction taking place. He wanted to help Erik out… but he didn’t know how. He owed Erik help, considering that the plan’s failure was all on him. If he hadn’t gotten himself captured, then Erik wouldn’t have been distracted. He should’ve just ran…

Eventually, Charles and Peter managed to situate Erik’s form into the back of the car. As the telepath tried to position Erik so that he’d be more comfortable, Peter ran back into the ruined cabin to pick up some pillows and a blanket. When he was about to run back outside, his dark eyes found the other man’s body. He slowly knelt down beside the body and tried to shake the man awake. However, unlike Erik, there was no rise of fall of the chest. Hell, Peter couldn’t even hear the man breathing. Curiosity ignited, Peter cautiously removed the bear head off of the man, only to find himself staring at the man’s unseeing green eyes. He wore an expression of shock and fear, almost as if he didn’t expect to go out the way he did. He looked like he was afraid of death. Realizing that Erik and Charles had actually killed someone, Peter numbly stumbled out of the cabin, grabbing the pillows and blanket in the process, before returning to the car. He ducked underneath Charles, who was leaning above Erik, and carefully placed the pillows underneath Erik’s head, as well as underneath his back in order to ease weight off of his damaged ribs. He then zipped over to the other side, opened the door, and placed the blanket over Erik, tucking in loose strands around the motionless form. Charles couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face.  
With Erik resting in the back, Peter and Charles sat in the front seats and began to take off, away from the hellhole.

During the long drive, Charles saw Peter constantly glancing back at Erik, who remained unconscious throughout the trip. The telepath could see and feel the worry, guilt, and uncertainty in the boy’s mind and heart. However, there was a fourth emotion that caught Charles’ attention: confusion.  
“Is something wrong, Peter?”  
The boy looked back up at Charles and began to fiddle his thumbs. “No. It’s just… Wh-What happened to that man? Why didn’t he come with us?”  
Charles looked down at Peter and sighed. “He, uhh, was subdued during the fight. Erik and I decided to… let him recover on his own. Besides, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want to live alongside us after the trouble we caused. Also, I’m quite certain that he and Moria would not get along, and-”  
“Are you… telling the truth?”  
The telepath, reflecting on Erik’s words about exposure to the violence and death the mutant gene carried, carefully ruffled the boy’s white hair. “Of course, Peter,” he replied a little too cheerfully.  
Peter eyed the older mutant for a few more seconds before looking out of the passenger's window, occasionally stealing glances at Erik.

For the remainder of the drive, Charles could hear Peter’s mind repeat two phrases: _“Mutants will never win in this world”_ and, the most loudest, _“Charles and Erik killed someone…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will explore Charles' reason for lying, Erik's reaction to Peter's heroic actions, and Peter's own fears towards his identity. Things will pick up very fast, very soon :)
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Please let me know and write them down :0) I enjoy reading comments and feedback! They always help improve my writing.
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here's another chapter!!!
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

Erik relished unconsciousness. That may sound a bit odd, but it was true. Whenever Shaw experimented on him, or whenever he overexerted his abilities, Erik would slip into blissful darkness. Despite the endless darkness, unconsciousness relieved him of the pain while providing him an opportunity to reflect. He was liberated from suffering, fear, and memories that continued to haunt him. Unfortunately, his elation came with a price: waking up.

Awareness came in steps. The first sense that returned was feeling, meaning that a dull but noticeable throbbing sensation slowly appeared in his head and ribs. He also could feel a soft, silky item covering his chest. An almost cloud-like object rested underneath his head, easing the rising discomfort in his head. Finally, he could detect another, smooth item, no wait, a hand, resting on top of his own.  
The second sense to come back was hearing. Soft chirps of birds echoed through his ears, but soon became far more clearer and closer. He could also pick up the sound of paper, more specifically, pages from a book, ruffling. Even breaths, which sounded close, helped the metal-bender control his own breathing during his journey back to awareness.  
The third was taste, meaning that his own breath tasted like death. He could still feel a prominent metallic taste lingering in his mouth.  
The fourth was smell. He could smell a familiar perfume enter his nostrils -- it was a perfume that Raven often wore. She always wore the perfect amount -- nothing too prominent, but also not too hidden. It smelt of a pine tree forest -- simple, beautiful, grounding, and freeing. The fifth and final sense was sight. With a soft groan, Erik slowly peeled his eyes open.

When his vision finally stopped moving in and out of focus, Erik found himself staring up at a familiar ceiling of his canopy bed. Little designs were embedded in the wooden platform above him, while silk curtains were strapped on top of the corners of the frame. He slowly moved his head to the left, causing his head to throb. He accidentally let out a hiss before-  
“Erik?”  
Quickly removing his eyes from the gothic windows to the source of the sound, Erik discovered Raven sitting by his bedside. What a sight to wake up to -- her beautiful blue eyes, golden blonde hair, and inviting smile always made his heart flutter. In her hands rested a book entitled _Catcher in the Rye_ by J.D Salinger, a classic. After examining Raven’s relieved look, Erik’s blue eyes slowly traveled down to his hand, which was being held by Raven’s. However, the moment quickly ended when she snatched her hand away, as if she were a child caught with her parent’s liquor. Despite the action, she continued to stare at him with a relieved and warm expression.  
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” the metal-bender rasped out, wincing at the dryness in his throat.  
The blonde’s warm expression instantly morphed into one of amusement. “You look like you went three rounds against Paul Anderson, and lost. I don’t think I’ll want a photo of you looking like shit.” She smirked. “I can’t believe that you got your ass kicked by a giant with an IQ of, like, 10.”  
“To be fair, he was seven-foot-three, and I didn’t have access to any metal. I’d say it was a pretty even match-”  
“That you lost.” After a few silent moments, she began another topic. “How are you feeling?” There was no sarcasm in her voice, only concern and genuine care.  
“I feel… like I got hit by a train. Then again, my opponent had the strength of one, so perhaps it’s fitting.” It was his turn to smile. “It’s good to see you again, Raven.”  
The blonde looked down at her lap, not wanting to reveal the blush creeping up her cheeks. However, before the duo could continue their conversation, another familiar face appeared at the doorway.  
“Hey Charles,” Raven sighed, standing up from her seat. “I suppose you’ll want to talk to Erik.”  
“Brilliant as always,” the telepath whispered back.  
Raven quickly shot Erik a shy smile before walking out of the room, leaving the pair of friends to talk.

As Raven left, Erik used the opportunity to examine himself. His bare chest was wrapped by bandages, which were somewhat hidden  underneath the thick comforter. His right hand was also bandaged, but not as tightly as his ribs.  
“Thank goodness you’re awake, my friend,” Charles began as he occupied the seat Raven sat in moments ago. “Most of your wounds were superficial, but there were some that required some extra attention.”  
Erik nodded before identifying the small bruise on his friend’s right cheek, as well as the split lower lip. “I see that you had your fair share of violence.”  
Charles snorted. “Believe me, my own injuries are nothing to fret over.”  
“How long was I out?”  
“Roughly twenty-nine hours.”  
Erik’s eyes widened before traveling to the window, where a sunset was painting the sky. “I missed a whole day? Damn.” Then, all of a sudden, an extremely important element, or person, popped into his head. “Peter!”  
“Erik-”  
“What happened? Is he alright?”  
“Here,” Charles intervened, handing the metal-bender a glass of water. “You sound awful, and I don’t want you to damage your voice.” As Erik hastily gulped the liquid down, the telepath filled in the details. “Peter’s fine. He managed to sustain some injuries, but nothing serious.”  
“That man threw him out a window and into the car! He was unconscious and bleeding! He-”  
“My friend, you must lower your voice.”  
“Why?”  
Wordlessly, Charles pointed across from where he sat. Slowly following the telepath’s finger, Erik found himself staring at Peter, who was sleeping on a big upholster chair. There was a comfy pillow underneath his head, and a thin blanket rested over his small, curled frame. Resting underneath his arm was his purple stuffed bunny. All of the anxiety, and even anger, directed at the boy instantly vanished, allowing Erik’s own heart to briefly melt at the sight of Peter in a state of peace.  
“He hasn’t left your side since we got here. He was absolutely worried about you, my friend.”  
Erik continued to stare at the sleeping boy. “Wh-What? Why?”  
“He found you back in the cabin unconscious and covered in blood. He tried to rouse you, but you were too far gone. He thought you were dead.”  
“Still, that doesn’t explain his concern over-”  
“He blamed himself for your current condition. He believed that if he had run faster, or even obeyed our orders, you would have been spared of this pain.” Before Erik could reply, Charles brought forth another point. “You know he saved both of us, right? If it hadn’t been for him, we’d both most likely be in a coma, or even worse. His quick thinking and heroic actions-”  
“Why are you telling me this?” Erik asked, looking back at his friend.  
“Because I know that when both of you are awake, you’ll probably give him a stern talk about disobedience. You’ll be angry at the boy, causing him to retreat away from the two of us. Erik, I understand that you care about him, and-”  
“I don’t care about him,” Erik shot back. “He’s a student, a boy, and he’s our responsibility. Nothing else.”  
Charles blinked at his friend, slightly surprised at those harsh words, but he made no effort to investigate. He knew where Erik’s anger was coming from: fear, guilt, and, most importantly, love.  
“Fine. My point is that he stayed true to himself and used his abilities, that we helped control, to save the two of us. If anything, you should be proud of him.” The look on Erik’s face said everything Charles needed to know: _‘I already am proud of him’_. “Look… we’ll talk some more later. Right now, you need some rest to heal up. By Hank’s request, you are not to get out of this bed for at least two more days.”  
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”  
“Afraid not, my friend. I’ll check in on you tomorrow morning. Perhaps we could begin another round of chess, just to keep your mind from boredom.”  
Erik smirked. “Deal. Charles… I’m glad you’re alright.”  
The telepath smiled before patting Erik’s blanket-covered knee. “I’m glad you’re alright, too. I’m glad all of us are alright. Sleep well, Erik.”  
With that, the telepath left, leaving Erik alone with a sleeping Peter.

After careful consideration, Erik gingerly repositioned himself until he was lying closer to the chair that Peter was resting on. Using his right hand, he carefully extended it towards the silky white hair and gently swiped away the boy’s bangs. When the hair was pushed aside, a white patch with see-through tape was exposed. Small, even minuscule, cuts also marked the boy’s head. The memories of Peter lying motionless on the ground, his head covered in blood, flashed before Erik’s eyes, making him unconsciously growl. However, he controlled his anger and, instead, replaced it with care. He silently stroked the white patch with his thumb.  
“Thank you,” he whispered to the sleeping boy.  
After a few more seconds, Erik retracted his hand from the boy’s head and moved to go back to sleep. For the third time, Peter had saved his life. But this time, it had nearly costed him his own…

The next evening, Erik awoke to see Peter releasing a mighty yawn. The boy stretched out his arms and legs, similar to a dog or cat. His white hair stuck out in all sorts of directions, once again giving him the look of a mad scientist. However, what caught Erik’s attention the most was how red the boy’s eyes were… almost as if he’d been crying.  
“Erik?” the boy whispered.  
When the metal-bender confirmed the inquiry, all of the sleepiness in Peter’s eyes instantly washed away. He bolted into a sitting position, oblivious to the blanket falling from his lap and onto the floor. They pair stared at each other, each of them withholding numerous emotions. Erik’s eyes traveled to the white patch on Peter’s head. The injury reminded him that the boy had endured a lot, meaning that if he were to have a strict talk, he should go easy on him. After all, he did save his life… again.

“Does… Does it hurt?” Peter asked, dropping his gaze to the metal-bender’s wrapped ribs.  
“Yes,” Erik replied flatly and honestly. “But,” he continued, his tone brightening a bit, “it could be far worse.”  
“I’m sorry,” the boy suddenly blurted. “I know I shouldn’t have ignored you, but he was hurting you two!”  
Erik sighed. “Peter… what you did was wrong-”  
“You told me to trust my own voice, right?”  
Erik raised his eyebrows. Damn… the boy was right.  
“Peter,” he began while pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not necessarily mad at you.”  
“You… You aren’t?”  
“I’m just…I was… I…” _‘I was worried about you.’_ “While it is important to trust your own instincts, that does not give you permission to throw yourself into the face of danger. The greatest warriors and superheroes strategically outline their battle plans. And if something were to occur that wasn’t a part of the plan-”  
“They retreat,” Peter finished, looking back down at his feet. “M’sorry, sir.”  
“Just don’t do it again. Deal?”  
Peter nodded, meeting Erik’s somewhat-stern gaze. “Deal.” After a few moments of silence, Peter moved to a different, more important, topic. “That man had the same tattoo like yours.”  
“Apparently so.”  
“He said he was tortured because he was a mutant. Is… Is that why you were tortured?”  
Erik blinked. “I, uhh, don’t think so.”  
“Did that man who hurt you hurt you because you were a mutant?”  
Peter was far too smart and curious for his age. “Not entirely.”  
“Don’t lie to me!”  
Erik was surprised at the unexpected heat in Peter’s voice. “I’m not-”  
“Charles lied about killing that man! Don’t you lie to me too!”  
Concerned, Erik gingerly repositioned himself so that he would be leaning against the bed’s backboard. He then patted the mattress, beckoning the white-haired boy to sit beside him on the bed. After a few hesitant moments, the boy complied and situated himself on the thick surface, sitting opposite of his mentor.  
“Peter, what are you talking about?”  
The boy fiddled with a couple of loose threads hanging on the blanket. “I went back into the cabin… and he was dead. He wasn’t breathing, and his eyes never closed. He looked like he was scared.” Erik’s heart twisted: at the age of six, the poor boy already witnessed horrific events and sights that only a soldier in combat should see. “When I asked Charles what had happened, he told me that the man was asleep, and that he would wake up. Why did he lie to me?”

Erik knew why his friend had lied: to protect the boy’s innocence. He himself would’ve lied in order to keep Peter’s optimistic view of mutants in tact. He didn’t want the boy to fear who he was… that was society’s job. How could he explain to a kid that lying was a necessity for protection?

“There are many reasons people lie to others.”  
Peter tilted his head. “Really?”  
“Yes. Sometimes people lie out of fear. They don’t want to get into trouble, so they create false stories or excuses in order to avoid situations. Other times, people lie because they want to manipulate others to do whatever they please.”  
“What?”  
“Well… let’s see here.”  
Erik extended his unbandaged hand towards the metal chess set, which rested on a coffee table, and levitated it onto the bed. Once it was situated, he summoned the king and hovered it in front of Peter’s curious eyes.  
“Kings are leaders, often in their positions due to elections or inheritance, who hold the responsibility of keeping order. Now the pawns,” he continued as he directed the smaller piece onto Peter’s lap, “are the regular people, living under the dictatorship of the king. Whether the king knows it or not, the people possess intelligence and power to overthrow the system.”  
“So why don’t they?” Peter asked as he examined the black item.  
“Because the king lies to his people. He creates false promises and policies that supposedly serve the people, the ones who hold the true power. However, in the end, everything he says is just to keep his power. Leaders, no matter how brave or noble, do not always serve those they are sworn to protect and represent. So you see, the people cannot rebel because they have become manipulated by the king.”  
Peter looked over the chess piece before handing it back to Erik. “Is that why you don’t like the government?”  
“Precisely. The pawns, the oppressed underdogs, hold more power than authority is willing to acknowledge. Mutants hold far greater strength, yet we are continually oppressed by law and order. We hold the power to thrive, but we’re never given a fair chance to… and it’s all because society has created lies directed towards praising the normal, and persecuting the unique.”  
“Oh,” Peter said. “Why else do people lie?”  
“Pride… and protection.”  
Peter tilted his head. “How does lying protect someone?”  
Erik carefully moved to lean forward in order to be closer to the boy. “Lying protects feelings. It shields the vulnerable and the uncertain from witnessing, as well as interacting with, the more harsher reality around them. Lying protects hope, similar to why kings manipulate his subjects -- he wants his followers to feel like their hard work and loyalty will lead to something greater and better. Lying protects our pride. Everybody, mutant and not, want to believe that they are better than others, and that we are capably of being more than what society expects us to be. We lie to ourselves and others, painting this false image of ourselves, because we want to protect what little pride and self-satisfaction we have. We lie to innocence and hope. We lie for ourselves, as well as the ones we love.”  
After processing everything that was told, Peter looked at the pawn resting on the chessboard. “So… why did Charles lie to me?”  
“He feared that the concept of death could’ve been… traumatizing for you. He opted lying in order to protect and preserve your innocence.”  
Peter let out a soft smile. “That was nice of him.”  
“It was indeed. Peter, do not think that this lecture permits you to lie constantly. If anything happens that you are either unsure of, or afraid of, speak to one of us immediately. We’ll know if you’re lying or not.”  
As Erik concluded his order, he tapped his fingers to the side of his head. Smiling, Peter began to fiddle with his shoelaces.  
“The man who hurt your family; did he torture you?”  
After giving such a heartfelt lecture, Erik couldn’t lie to the boy… at least, about some things. “Yes, he did.”  
“Did he hurt you because you’re a mutant?”  
“... Yes.” Erik could see the boy’s lip quiver a bit, prompting him to gently grasp Peter’s chin so that their contrasting eyes would meet. “Peter, like I said before, men like him are rare. He was a sadist, and nothing more. You have nothing to fear. Nobody will hurt you.”  
“Promise?” the boy squeaked out.  
After staring intently at Peter, Erik finally allowed himself to nod. “With all of my heart.”  
That wasn’t a lie. In fact, it was more of a promise to himself than the little boy. Erik wouldn’t let anything happen to Peter. He refused to let the boy get hurt on his watch.  
“It’s almost time for bed,” he said. “We both need rest in order to heal up. I’ll see you tomorrow, Peter.”  
“Okay, sir.”

When Peter pounced off of the tall mattress, he quickly folded up the discarded blanket and placed it neatly on top of a chair across the room. He then grabbed his stuffed bunny and headed towards the door. However, before he completely exited, he turned back around to Erik.  
“Erik,” he began, “you won’t lie to me, will you?”  
“I won’t if you won’t,” the metal-bender replied with a smirk. “Goodnight Peter.”  
“Goodnight Erik… I’m glad you're better.”  
With that, Peter exited the room.

For the remainder of the night, or at least he fell asleep, Erik stared at unoccupied chair where Peter slept, listing off all of the lies he’d told the boy, as well as himself… and the lies he would continue to tell both of them until they departed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will be more angst, but there will also still be fluff :D
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Don't be shy!! Please let me know and write them down :0) I love reading comments, both warm and critical :)
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)
> 
> P.S: Happy Fourth of July!!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here's another chapter!! I'll try to include more Alex/Raven/Sean/Hank, but I want a majority of this section of the story to focus on Erik and Peter, as well as Charles.
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

“I heard you saved the day,” Alex said.   
Peter, who had been munching on an apple in the kitchen, sheepishly nodded. “It’s no big deal.”  
“I mean, without you, we’d probably all be back on the streets or wherever. So thanks, kid.” The blonde’s eyes traveled to the white patch on Peter’s head. “Hey, don’t be afraid to show off that beauty,” he claimed while pointing to the mark.  
“Why?”  
“Girls dig guys with scars.”  
Peter made a noise of displeasure. “Ewww, I don’t want girls to like me.”  
“Maybe not now, but eventually you will. Trust me on that, Pete.”

When Peter smiled, Alex smiled back. Since their first encounter, Alex had begun to hang around Peter more and more. First impressed by the boy’s courage, the blonde slowly discovered that there was more to the younger mutant. He was intrigued by Peter’s curiosity, energy, and optimism. Soon enough, the duo began to interact more frequently. Deciding that he wanted to take advantage of Peter’s energy, Alex took it upon himself to teach the boy numerous skills that he felt would be beneficial to learn. He taught Peter how to box, wrestle, lift some weights, and, for fun, play pinball. He knew that Peter had extensive energy and strength, so he wanted to train the kid so that’d be even stronger. He also gave Peter some advice on girls, bullies, and masculinity. While Peter himself didn’t necessarily agree with, or understand, the blonde’s points, he still appreciated that someone was willing to spend time with him and give him advice.

There was another motive, however, behind Alex’s decision to train Peter. The white-haired runner, believe it or not, reminded him of his younger brother, Scott Summers. While Scott was two years younger than Peter, he still held the same amount of curiosity and compassion towards others. Alex, similar to Erik, knew that those qualities could seen as an opportunity for others. Their kindness and trust towards others exposed them to enemies, making them potential targets of necessary violence and death. Considering that Alex hadn’t seen his brother in over a year, he decided that training Peter would almost be like training his younger brother.

“Alex?”  
“Yeah, kid?”  
“Who's Sebastian Shaw?”  
That name instantly brought Alex back to reality. The brightness in his eyes vanished, prompting Peter to shrink into himself on the stool.  
“I-I’m sorry! Charles talked about him, and I was just curious. I-I can go if you-”  
“Kid, relax. It’s… not that big of a deal,” the older mutant sighed. “Shaw is a mutant, like ourselves.”  
“Shaw’s a mutant?!” Alex nodded his head. “And he wants to destroy the world?”  
“It seems that way.”  
“But I thought all mutants were-”  
“Good people? Kid, I hate to break it to you, but we’re not living in Gotham or Metropolis. Here, everyone, superhuman or not, has the capability to turn evil. In the end, it’s about survival of the fittest. ”  
Peter swallowed before abandoning the apple on the kitchen island. “Did you ever meet Shaw?”  
Like Erik had done back in the cabin, Alex clenched and unclenched his hand. “Yeah…I saw the bastard.”  
“How?”  
“He…He killed a really good friend of mine; a mutant.”  
“What was-”  
“Kid, do you ever stop asking questions?”  
When Peter shamefully looked down at his sneakers, Alex instantly regretted snapping at the kid. After all, if Scott were here, he probably would’ve asked the exact same questions. He shouldn’t be angry at a six year old boy.  
“Darwin had the ability to adapt to any environment he was put in: If there was a fire, his skin could turn into rock; if he was surrounded by water, he could grow gills. He was almost invulnerable.”  
“Like Superman?”  
Alex snorted. “Yeah. Like Superman.” The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose. “One night, Shaw and his posse broke into a CIA facility where everyone here was residing. They killed all security guards, destroyed the facility, and recruited someone I thought was our friend to the dark side. When Darwin and I tried to kill Shaw, he absorbed some of my plasma and...used it to kill Darwin. He killed a good man, someone I considered a friend.” Alex let out a humorous-less laugh. “I guess, technically, I killed him.”

Peter didn’t get it. In this world, not only were superheroes shunned by society, but they also were capable of turning evil. In the comic book world, superheroes never killed their own. Hell, they never killed, period. But after the attack in Maine, and after Alex’s confession, Peter was beginning to doubt the role superheroes played in the world. He was beginning to fear who he was, and the burdens that came with it.

“He was a bad man… not you.”  
Alex looked across the island. “Yeah… sure, kid.”  
“You didn’t mean to-”  
“But I still did it,” Alex cut off, “and look what happened.”  
Sensing that the blonde needed to be alone, Peter jumped off of the stool and began to walk away from the kitchen. However, before he completely vanished from view, the boy turned around to face Alex, who was staring at his drink with regret and guilt.  
“I still think you’re the hero…”  
He never saw Alex’s smile escaping his lips.

That afternoon, Erik and Peter sat on a window sill that gave the two access to a view of the satellite dish. Hank and Charles requested that Erik should not physically overexert himself, for he was still recovering from the fight. And while sitting below, rather than on top of, the dish wasn’t exactly a sight for sore eyes, it still gave the duo a nostalgic feeling. Plus, in the end, they were just glad to be together (although they would never admit out loud).

“Erik, what does survival of the fittest mean?”  
“It’s a biological concept created by Herbert Spencer, who had based his term on Charles Darwin’s _On the Origins of Species_. Individuals or groups that possess strengths, that give them the opportunity to survive and thrive in this world, will often be the ones who pass on their genetic material. In the end, the strongest survive because of their genetic benefits, as well as their ability to reproduce similar offspring.”  
“What happens to the weak?”  
“They perish. Their inability to adapt to their environment or given situation makes them weak and more vulnerable for defeat. Therefore, as a result, they cannot reproduce offspring who can carry similar genetic traits. In the end, those who are still on this earth are here because they are strong.”  
“What makes someone strong?”  
“Aside from their ability to adapt, they must always be resilient.” Peter blinked in confusion. “They must be able to quickly recover from wound, illness, or vulnerability the world hits them with. The strong must also be courageous, willing to take on any challenge with little fear. They must be intelligent in order to carefully strategize battle plans against their enemies. Finally, they must be willing to make sacrifices that, while painful, continue to ensure their powers.”  
“Athleticism does not always determine one’s strength, my friend,” a new voice chimed in.

Peter and Erik looked away from the view and towards the doorway, where Charles was leaning against the wooden frame. While Peter’s greeted the telepath with a smile, Erik wasn’t necessarily happy with his friend’s interruption. He was trying to explain to the boy that physicality was a necessity when facing the outside, cruel world. He was just trying to keep Peter safe.

“Charles, this conversation isn’t-”  
“What do you think makes someone strong?” Peter asked the other mutant.  
“Well,” Charles began as he sat on Peter’s other side, “I think showing compassion and sympathy towards everyone, even the arrogant and ignorant, is a key trait. I also believe that resorting to peace, rather than violence, is another quality that determines the strength of one. Brute strength holds little value against emotional strength.”  
“Charles, enough,” Erik growled, much to the other’s confusion.  
“What do you think makes someone strong?” Charles asked.  
“Uhhh, my mama says that-”  
“I’m not asking about what your mother thinks,” the telepath gently countered. “I want to know what you, Peter Maximoff, believe in.”  
After a few hesitant moments, the boy nodded to himself. “I think strong people can forgive those who hurt them.” Surprised, Erik snapped his gaze to Peter. “I don’t know why people hold onto bad memories. I think it takes courage, something Erik thinks is a strength, to move forward. I mean, how else can a king focus on running his people, land, and power, if he just thinks about his past?”  
He was right… Damn. Still, that did not mean that Erik was happy about Peter’s response.  
“You make some excellent points,” Charles exclaimed, admiring the boy’s wisdom.  
“Enemies take advantage of sentiment,” Erik countered, much to Charles’ annoyance. “There are people out there who act, but never listen. Kindness is seen as a weakness.”  
“Expressing kindness, especially in a difficult world, is strength.”

The conversation soon turned to bickering, and the focus diverted from Peter to their own clashing ideologies. Peter found himself sitting, rather uncomfortably, in between his two mentors, who continued to argue. While he wished that he could simply get up and leave the conversation, or debate, he was also somewhat captivated by the different philosophies presented. They helped him conjure up his own ideas that combined peace and retaliation. But then, just as he was beginning to enjoy their debates-

“-I will not have you fill Peter’s head with all of this retaliation nonsense.”  
“He’s already been exposed to the horrors our species calls a reality. We cannot pretend that peace is the most effective option in a time of war!”  
“Erik, violence isn’t the solution. It’s a temporary one, but it does not erase the actual issue! Peace-”  
“Do you really think Shaw gave a damn about peace when he killed my mother?!”  
Charles went silent. Peter snapped his head to Erik, whose eyes were laced with regret and pain. The only sound that could be heard was a gentle pitter-patter from the small rainfall outside.  
“Sh-Shaw was the man who hurt you?” No response. “He gave you that tattoo, tortured you, and killed your mama?” After what seemed like decades, Erik slowly nodded, unable to meet the boy’s gaze.  
Suddenly, much to the older mutant’s shock, Peter bolted out of the room.

The telepath and the metal-bender sat in silence, unable to communicate what had just transpired. Erik found himself drowning in the memories of his mother, when he was a happier child, much like Peter. He relived all of those beautiful moments before the Nazi’s took everything away from him. He remembered, and missed, what it was like to feel happy, truly happy.

Charles, on the other hand, found himself re-evaluating his own stance on peace. Despite Erik’s outburst, the telepath still believed that peace was the better option in a time of hatred and prejudice. Feeding into the belief that the unknown were a thing to fear wouldn’t fix the problem. Peace challenged stereotypes and expectations, allowing the unique to been seen in a different light. Whether or not the majority decided to accept this perspective was a different story, but at least it gave the different a chance. There was another reason, especially in Peter’s case, why Charles’ passionately advocated for a more sentimental approach towards life…

“He’s been having nightmares,” he suddenly stated.  
Erik looked up at his friend, who eyed him carefully. “What?”  
“Ever since our encounter in the cabin, Peter’s mind has been extremely restless. I can sense his dreams, and they are far from the average nightmare. He’s dreamt about that giant storming into this facility and killing everyone here the same way he killed the deer. He’s dreamt about that man breaking my neck. However, the image that has occurred the most frequently, is the one where you don’t wake up.” Erik raised his eyebrow. “My friend, his biggest nightmare is the one where you die.” Charles scooted closer to his friend. “I understand why you’re encouraging Peter to be more aggressive and proactive in a world that continues to deny our existence and abilities.”  
“Really? Do you?”  
“You care about him…” Before Erik could fight back, Charles raised his hand and silenced his friend. “There’s nothing wrong about caring for a boy like him. He’s a very bright, curious, and kind being who enjoys the unfamiliar and sees them as friends, never enemies. You want him to survive and thrive in this world, and that’s completely fine! But he needs to know that sentiment and compassion isn’t always a weakness. What if he wants to talk about his nightmares?”  
Erik sighed, knowing that Charles was correct. “He’s just a boy, more vulnerable than ever.”  
“Which is why we shouldn’t base his knowledge soulfully on retaliation. There’s a balance between peace and war, rage and serenity, and we need to show him that. Otherwise, he could wander down a dangerous road and not know how to turn back.”  
With a pat on Erik’s shoulder, Charles walked out of the room, leaving a conflicted and guilt-ridden Erik sitting on the windowsill alone with his demons and fears.

A woman wearing an Indian green trench coat, long-sleeved shirt, and boots, as well as black leather pants, stood in the large field behind the Xavier mansion. Her pine green hair hung limply to her shoulders due to the rain, which had begun to increase. She eyed the facility carefully, scanning for any occupants. Then, her hazel eyes landed on a small boy with white-hair sitting on a windowsill next to-  
“Hello,” she began while holding a walkie talkie to her lips, “this is Madame Hydra.”  
“Viper,” a suave, American voice responded, “how are you?”  
“I’m fine,” she stated coldly. “Shaw, I think I have some news that you’ll find interesting.”  
“Go on.”  
“I found Erik Lehnsherr.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun!!!
> 
> For some information about Viper: "Viper has no superhuman abilities but her strength, speed, reflexes, agility, dexterity, coordination, balance and endurance are on the order of an Olympic athlete. She is a great swordswoman and even greater markswoman with most long range weapons, and has extensive training in hand-to-hand combat. Viper occasionally employs poisoned weapons with snake-motifs, such as venomous darts or artificial fangs filled with poison. She utilizes experimental weaponry, including a ring that enables teleportation, and she made use of razor-sharp claw attachments apparently built into her gloves." - Wiki. Fun fact: she's a member of the Hellfire Club.
> 
> The next chapter will deal with nightmares :)
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Please let me know and write them down :0) I enjoy reading comments and feedback! They always help improve my writing.
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here's another (short) chapter! This definitely isn't my best chapter, and I apologize for that. However, the next few will be fueled by action, angst, and BAMF Erik!!
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!

Erik didn’t believe the severity of Charles’ warnings, regarding Peter’s nightmares, until he’d witnessed one himself.

About five days following the cabin incident, Erik had begun to make rounds throughout the facility. Because he had spent four days in bed, or in his room, he became restless and eventually took matters into his own hands. During the night, Erik had snuck out of his room and used the opportunity to exercise his legs. Of course, there were plenty of moments when he had to rest and lean against a wall for temporary support, but he still pushed himself to cover the majority of the facility. However, once he came across Peter’s room, all of his original goals were instantly abandoned.

Looking through the crack of the doorway, Erik could see the white-haired boy tossing and turning in the large bed. The older mutant could see the boy’s limbs getting tangled up in the sheets. The moonlight leaking from outside revealed sweat plastering the pasty hair and dampening the pillows. Small tears could also be seen. Erik could see Peter’s lips moving, as if he were talking in his sleep.  
“Peter?” Erik whispered as he slowly approached the bed.  
“No no no no,” the boy mumbled, unconsciously shaking his head.  
When the older mutant finally made it to the bed, he quietly turned on the lamp on the nightstand and sat beside Peter, who had yet to wake up. With slight hesitancy, he placed his uninjured hand onto the boy’s shoulder and gave a gentle shake.  
“Peter, you’re dreaming,” he softly said.  
“Wake up,” the other whispered, oblivious of Erik’s presence. “Please wake up.”  
“Peter-”  
“Erik, please wake up!!”

The world temporarily came to a halt following the boy’s pleas. Erik, reflecting on Charles’ words from earlier, sat in shock. Peter genuinely feared that he had died. While the older mutant was still upset that the boy was experiencing such a vision, he also took a lot of comfort knowing that Peter cared about him. Erik would never admit this aloud, even to Charles, but he also experienced a nightmare where the boy had been taken away from him… by Shaw and the Hellfire Club. He remembered waking up and screaming for Shaw to let Peter go. Pushing the unpleasant experience aside, Erik once again resorted to gently shaking the boy’s shoulders, more frequently this time, and gently coaxing him back to reality.  
“You’re dreaming. I’m right here, Peter. Everything is okay. Wake up.”  
Eventually, Peter reacted to Erik’s attempts and jolted awake. If it hadn’t been for Erik’s grip on his shoulder, Peter would’ve catapulted himself out of the bed. For a few minutes, the older mutant remained silent as the younger one focused on controlling his breathing. When Peter’s dark irises stopped frantically scanning the room, and when his gasps were reduced to evenly-paced breaths, he finally met Erik’s own blue eyes.  
“Erik?” Peter asked, disbelief hidden in his voice.  
When the other confirmed his presence, the boy felt red creep up his face. He sat up against the headboard, pressed his legs against his chest, and looked away from his mentor.

This was what Charles warned: Erik's philosophy on sentiment and vulnerability were influencing Peter to become more reserved. While Erik still stood by his beliefs, he mentally slapped himself for being so inconsiderate, arrogant, and even ungrateful. Unlike Erik, Peter was surrounded by mutants who were more than willing to hear his stories, including nightmares. He had founded an environment where fears could be allayed, secrets could be kept, and pride was favored. Erik should’ve encouraged Peter to take advantage of the mansion and it’s occupants, rather than to resist it; just because he was never given an opportunity like this, when he was a boy, didn’t mean that Peter should’ve been stripped of one.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Erik asked, moving to sit slightly closer across from Peter.  
“No.”  
“Peter… it’s okay to express anything that discomforts or frustrates you. The highest men in power often have advisors whom they discuss their personal worries and suspicions with.” Peter slowly met Erik’s gaze. “A king, as powerful as he appears, has supporters who are more than willing to listen to his ideas, strategies, and concerns.” He could tell that the boy was contemplating opening up, so Erik kicked his argument up a notch. “Everyone, including myself, experiences night terrors.”  
Peter looked genuinely surprised by that confession. “Really? You have nightmares?” Erik nodded. “What of?”

 _Immobilized by an invisible force, Erik watched Sebastian Shaw drag Peter Maximoff behind him, similar to how a dog is forcibly tugged, against their will, by a leash. The boy wore the wounds he had gained during the confrontation in Maine, while the blood began to stain his already pale face. Surrounding the pair where the corpses of everyone who held significant importance in his life: Charles, Raven, his mother, his father, his sister, a young woman with brown hair, and a little girl who shared similar features of the other woman. All of their bodies were placed into plastic, see-through corpse bags, which were strung up from the endless ceiling. When Erik tore his gaze from the bodies back to Shaw and Peter, who were both now accompanied by Azazel, his anxiety rose._  
_“Don’t hurt him!” Erik shouted, struggling to reach Peter._  
_“You promised nothing would happen to me,” the boy unexpectedly stated, betrayal and sadness heard perfectly in his voice._  
_“Peter, I’m going to get you-”_  
_Shaw made a tsking sound. “It’s a shame, really. The boy is going to die not knowing the truth about who he is.”_  
_Erik growled. “He already knows about his mutation.”_  
_“No no no,” Shaw gently silenced as Azazel’s red tail slowly moved towards Peter’s neck, “who he_ **_really_ ** _is.” Erik’s heart began to pound against his ribs._ _"Einer."_  
_Erik’s eyes widened as the tip of Azazel’s pointy tail dug itself into Peter’s throat, drawing a little bit of blood. “Shaw, let him go!!”_  
_“Zwei.”_  
_The voices of all who perished in Auschwitz joined Shaw’s count. Erik frantically looked around for something, anything, that would save Peter from certain death._  
_“He’s just a boy!!!!”_  
_“Drei.”_  
_“SHAW, PLEASE!!!”_  
_With a sadistic smile, Shaw watched Azazel slit the boy’s throat as if it were butter._

Erik tore himself from the horrific nightmare from a while back. He looked back down at Peter, who was anxiously waiting for an answer. The metal-bender could never tell the boy what he truly dreamt about; it would create too many questions.  
“Well,” Erik began, “my nightmares revolve around my time at the camps.” It wasn’t a complete lie.  
“Shaw?” The metal bender nodded, prompting Peter to shift around. “I… I dreamt about him too.”  
Concerned and inquisitive, Erik leaned closer to the boy. “What? How is that possible? You haven’t even seen his face.”  
“In my dream, he had no eyes or nose… Only a smile. He smiled the way the bullies smile at me, like he didn’t care that someone was in pain. I dreamt that Shaw hurt you the same way that man in the cabin did.” Peter’s breathing began to hitch. “E-Except, no matter how much I wanted to help you, you we-weren’t getting up! He-He kept hurting you, a-a-and I h-had to watch.”  
At this point, Peter was beginning to hyperventilate. Erik instinctively placed a comforting hand on the boy’s back and began to gently rub circles around the surface, whispering some words of comfort in the process.  
“It was just a dream,” he gently claimed. “I’m right here, Peter. Everything is fine.”  
“Wh-When do they stop?” Peter asked, looking up at Erik.  
“What?”  
“When do the nightmares stop?”  
Erik didn’t have an answer. Considering that he himself continues to experience night terrors, and considering that his life has continually been shaped by pain, he didn’t know when the nightmares and memories ended… if they did at all. Instead of providing an answer, he continued to rub the boy's back. Eventually, Peter managed to calm down. When he tried to apologize for crying, Erik silenced him by simply raising a hand.  
“There is no need to apologize for expressing some emotions, Peter. It does the body and mind no good if it’s repressing potentially crippling sentiments. Every once in awhile, we need to vent. As you stated earlier, leaders need to be focused on the task at hand. How can they lead their kingdom if they’re drowning in their past?” The boy sheepishly smiled, allowing Erik himself to also smile. “You have nothing to fear, Peter.”  
“But what if Shaw comes here? Wh-What if he finds us and tries to hurt everyone here?!”  
Erik repositioned himself until he also sat against the headboard, right beside Peter. “Believe me, neither Shaw nor his allies will lay a single hand on you, or anyone here. I won’t let him.” The determination and commitment in that last statement was prominent.  
“But… what if he hurts you again?”

Peter’s eyes and tone held authentic fear. Moved and saddened, Erik wrapped a careful arm around the boy’s shoulders. He was surprised when Peter nuzzled closer towards him, as if his presence alone scared away all of Peter’s worries. Erik welcomed the boy’s own warmth with open arms. For a minute or two, the pair sat in silence, each one of them taking comfort in each other’s presence. Their minds were occupied with thoughts and memories of Shaw, as well as the destruction that always followed him, Eventually, Erik broke the silence and looked down at Peter.  
  
“Peter, your concern for me is… valued. However, it is not your responsibility to fret over me or anyone here.”  
“M’sorry, sir.”  
Erik unwrapped his arm and repositioned himself so that he was sitting directly across from Peter, who had yet to cease hugging his legs. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I overheard Sean talking about a comic book that was just released featuring a team of superheroes. Do you know anything of it?”  
“The Justice League,” Peter automatically answered.  
“And whom does the League consist of?”  
“Superman, Batman, Aquaman, Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, and Wonder Woman.”  
“Do they make a wonderful team?” Peter eagerly nodded his head, his arms slowly losing their grip around his legs. “Do you think Batman and Superman, two lone superheroes, benefit from-”  
“Batman doesn’t work alone,” Peter corrected.  
Erik’s confused look prompted the white-haired boy, for the first time since his nightmare, to hop out of bed and head towards his backpack, which rested on an armchair. After a few moments of rummaging, he walked back to the bed and handed Erik a slightly fading comic book.  
“Batman has a sidekick named Robin!” Peter exclaimed proudly as Erik examined the piece of literature. “He helps Bruce Wayne with his missions, defeating bad guys and saving civilians.”

Erik, now interested in the story, flipped through the thin book. Inside, it explains the origins of Dick Grayson. He had once belonged to a family of acrobats called “The Flying Graysons.” Following an incident relating to the extortion of money between gangsters and the circus owner, Dick’s mother and father are killed in a tragic trapeze “accident” -- in reality, the gangsters sabotaged the trapeze wires with acid. Bruce Wayne, who had attended the circus performance, witnessed the deaths of Dick’s parents… as did Dick himself. The millionaire took it upon himself to not only avenge the boy’s parents, but to also to take him on as a protege. Through exclusive training, as well as personal moments between the two, Bruce Wayne, a.k.a Batman, had adopted Dick and made him his sidekick named Robin. What captured Erik’s interest was not only Dick’s tragedy, similar to his own, but rather the result of it.

Eventually, the metal-bender handed back Peter’s comic book. “Even Batman needs some support,” he stated with a small smile. “Peter, the point I’m trying to make is that everyone here is a team. We work better together than alone. If danger comes here, we will all stand together and fend it off.”  
“Just like The Justice League?”  
“Exactly like them.” Erik could see that there was something lingering in the back of Peter’s mind. “What’s the matter?”  
“Nothing. It’s just… A-Am I a part of our team too?”  
Erik smirked before he leaned closer towards Peter. “Absolutely.” He could see Peter’s dark eyes brighten exponentially. “Do you mind if I hold onto this?” Erik asked as he showed the boy his comic book.  
“Okay. Just don’t ruin it.”  
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Erik watched Peter re-tuck himself into bed, finding his purple bunny and clutching it against his chest. “Goodnight Peter.”  
“Goodnight Erik,” the boy replied with a sleepy smile.  
The metal-bender ruffled the boy’s white hair before leaving towards the door. He stopped, however, when he noticed a recent camp brochure lying underneath the armchair where the open backpack rested.

In a small alleyway in New York City, Madame Hydra leaned against the damp brick wall, mindlessly fiddling with her bullwhip. She waited for a man, whom Sebastian Shaw recommended, with the appearance of the devil himself. When a cloud of red smoke suddenly appeared in front of her, Hydra instantly unleashed her whip. Soon enough, a man with unreal yellow eyes that pierced through everything he saw scanned the woman with green hair.  
“My boss said that you found Erik Lehnsherr.”  
Hydra slowly lowered the whip. “Correct. Are you the devil?”  
“In the flesh,” the other replied with a wink. “Tell me, where is Erik?”  
“He’s at a mansion in Westchester. If you goal is to neutralize him, I’d advise against it. He’s surrounded by numerous mutants, each one of the them possessing their own unique abilities.”  
“We’ve encountered the children before. Believe me, they are no threat.”  
“They’ve begun to collaborate. Their teamwork is, quite frankly, extraordinary.”  
“So how do you propose we capture him?”  
The woman smiled. “In recent days, Lehnsherr has been frequently seen with a boy with white hair.”  
“Is the boy important?”  
“I do not know. But what I am sure of is that Lehnsherr has become attached to the kid. If we execute the boy, his death will lead Lehnsherr right to Shaw.”  
“Never underestimate his rage.”  
“And never underestimate my skills,” Hydra replied in a calm yet threatening tone. “Shaw will have Lehnsherr.”  
After careful consideration, Azazel bowed his head. “I will inform Shaw of this news. If I may ask, how are you going to kill the boy if he’s surrounded by mutants?”

Viper’s slim fingertips began to unconsciously skim over her M40 Rifle, which rested on her back, as well as her deadly bullwhip laced with her own poisonous concoctions. “Leave that to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik's interest in the comic will explored with MUCH more depth in a chapter or three :D
> 
> The comic Peter had is called Detective Comics #38 (April 1940). It features Dick Grayson's first appearance as Robin. Little fun fact about myself: Dick Grayson/Nightwing is my favorite comic book hero :)
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Don't be shy :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here's another chapter!!!
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

Erik plopped the discarded camp brochure onto Charles’ desk. The telepath examined the piece of paper before returning his friend’s look of shock.  
“I found it on the ground two days ago,” Erik stated gravely. “He’s been lying to us since the very beginning.”  
“His mother must be terribly worried about him,” Charles added.  
Erik shook his head. “Why would he create such a lie?”  
Charles leaned back into his leather chair and carefully tried to deconstruct the day they’d encountered Peter. He remembered the genuine curiosity radiating off of the boy as he inquired about mutation. When Charles had proposed that Peter could have also been a mutant, he recalled Peter’s otherwise dark eyes brightening with absolute joy and hope. His eyes…  
“Erik, remember when you were against the idea of bringing Peter here?”  
“How could I forget?” the metal-bender muttered back.  
“I had told you that his eyes were red-rimmed, almost as if he’d been crying. Something happened to him earlier, and that must’ve influenced his decision to lie about camp.”

Erik took back the brochure and examine the images within more carefully. Then, the explanation behind Peter’s decision hit the metal-bender almost instantaneously. The photographs in the brochure portrayed young children, roughly Peter’s age, having a merry time in the camp. Some pictures showed the kids playing in the lake, others running around an open field, and more exploring the confined woods. The opening image, the one that supposedly grabbed the consumers attention, presented all of the children in a school bus that was on their way to the land. All of the children, Erik deducted, were a part of the nuclear family. In other words, their facial expressions easily indicated that they came from a family of privilege, security, and certainty. They looked the same, valued the same, and feared the same. Peter, on the other hand, was far from normal.   
His remarkable white hair automatically separated him from the rest of the majority. His unique hair and captivating dark eyes put him on everyone’s radar. His physical appearance, as well as gentle yet diffident personality, instantly made him a target amidst a sea of conformists. To add onto it, Peter had told him earlier that the children constantly point out his father’s absence. Peter felt alone…

“What do you suppose we do?” Charles asked. “Punishing him will not do any good. However, we need to teach him that lying on this scale can result in numerous, potentially dangerous consequences.”  
“I’ll talk to him,” Erik volunteered as he stuffed the brochure back into his pocket.  
Intrigued by his friend’s offer, Charles folded his arms. “Erik Lehnsherr willing to help others?” He asked in a joking manner. “Are there long-term side effects of the concussion that I’m not aware of?”  
“Charming,” Erik replied sarcastically before heading towards Peter’s room.  
“Seriously though, I’ve seen a bond grow between you and Peter. How does a drifter like yourself become attached to an open soul like Peter?”  
Erik stared at his friend for a few moments. “I thought you knew everything about me?”  
The telepath raised his eyebrow. “Apparently, there’s more mystery to you than I realized.”  
“Good. For the safety of everyone here, I recommend it remains that way.”  
While Charles silently debated on whether or not Erik’s words were statements, threats, or warnings, Erik had exited the office.

When Erik approached Peter’s room, he could hear muffled sniffs coming from the opposite side of the room.  
“Peter, are you okay?” No reply. “Peter?”  
After more silence, Erik opened the wooden door and saw Peter himself sitting on the windowsill with his face pressed against his knees. While the older mutant instinctively desired to comfort the distraught boy, he forced himself to remain still in order to silently investigate the reason behind the tears. He didn’t get much time, however, for Peter sensed Erik’s presence and lifted his head to meet the other’s concerned gaze. The boy hastily wiped away any stray tears, wiped his nose on his sleeve, and gave Erik a small smile.  
“Hello.”  
“Is everything alright?” Erik asked as he moved to sit beside the boy.  
Peter nodded. “Y-Yes.”  
“Didn’t we have a conversation about lying?” Peter slowly met Erik’s debatably stern gaze. “So, are you going to truthfully tell me what happened or will I have to get Charles to read your mind?”  
Before Peter could reply, his dark eyes traveled to Erik’s pocket, where the crumpled brochure rested. His red eyes instantly filled with fear. Noticing the drastic change, Erik followed Peter’s gaze.  
“Peter-”  
“I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to lie to you all!!”  
“Peter, it’s-”  
“Th-Those kids were making fun of me!! Th-They pulled my hair, threw stuff a-at me, and made fun of m-my family!! I-I-I just wanted to leave them and-”  
“Pietro Django Maximoff, will you let me speak?”  
The white-haired boy stopped his spew of explanations, or painful confessions, but not for the reason Erik believed. “How did you know my middle name?”  
Erik’s heart skipped a beat. He frantically tried to conjure up some excuse that would answer Peter's question, as well as conclude the topic. In the end, he came up with-  
“Charles is telepath, remember? There isn’t anything you can’t hide from him.” In a more serious tone, Erik jumped back to their original conversation. “Peter, I’m sorry.”  
Peter was stupefied. “You’re… sorry? For what?”  
“Those children on the bus made fun of you.”

Peter looked back at the ground, trying to fend off the unpleasant memories that relentlessly attacked his mind. Erik wasn’t a stranger to feelings of self-doubt. After all, during his time in the camps, and all throughout his life, he had encountered numerous people who forced him to question his own self worth. However, as he became more mature, he realized that their opinions held little value in the long run.  He needed Peter to feel the same way. He moved to kneel in front of Peter and placed a gentle, comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. He gave Peter a light shake to get his attention.

“Peter, I want to make this clear: there is nothing to be ashamed of. Those children are nothing but conformists, willing to sacrifice individuality and independence for security and power. Their parents are mere puppets, blind followers of an oppressive system meant to discriminate the unique, the free, and the gifted.” Peter looked confused. “Society has always been designed to cater to a specific species, and the subgroups within them. The government creates policies and ideas that purposefully allow one group to thrive in this corrupt world, while the others are left to fend for themselves. Peter, all of those children who made fun of you were taught by their parents, who have also been a part of the systemic prejudice and discriminatory government, are all merely blinded by what society has created. Terms like freak, monster, savage, and misfit are cultivated into society. Every derogatory remark towards mutants were created by the ignorant and malevolent.”  
When Erik let go of Peter’s shoulder, the younger mutant slowly reached for the crumpled brochure in Erik’s pocket. When he smoothed it out, his eyes automatically traveled to the joyous children in the school bus.  
“They look so happy,” he quietly said. “They all have friends… and papas.” Erik’s heart twisted during the last statement. “They’re included in activities, hang out after school, and go to birthday parties together.” Peter’s eyes began to sting. “They’re not alone… not like me.”  
With a sigh, Erik moved to sit beside Peter and, once again, wrapped his right arm around Peter’s shoulders. The boy nuzzled closer to the metal-bender, wanting to absorb as much comfort and security Erik’s presence constantly radiated.  
“It may appear that they are living the life of security, certainty, and fulfillment, but that comes with a price. Those who are sheltered by privilege and conformity become ignorant, detached from the world they truly live in. They are taught that every being is, or should be, like them. In reality, the global majority consists of different groups and species that do not genetically, as well as morally, adhere to the expectations set up.”  
“Like mutants?”  
“Exactly. Mutants are just one of numerous groups that do not identify with the majority, and therefore must endure some hardships. But in the end, those hardships provide us two things: irreplaceable wisdom and incomparable skills required to adapt to the world. We, the oppressed, are stronger than the privileged. We’re more aware of the inequality embedded in society, and we’re far more willing to protest and rebel against the oppressive status quo. Mutants, like all of the pawns, hold far more power than authority is willing to realize -- whether or not we choose to use it lies in our hands, not theirs.”

As Peter carefully processed Erik’s words, the metal-bender rubbed the boy’s arm in a soothing manner. The duo sat in silence, welcoming and relishing each other’s presence.  
“I wasn’t on the list,” Peter mumbled to Erik, keeping his gaze to his sneakers.  
“What was that?”  
Wordlessly, Peter leaped from the windowsill and opened his backpack. When he returned to Erik, he unclenched his hand to reveal a couple of crumpled dollar bills.  
“I… I don’t understand what you’re-”  
“My mama paid for camp, but they didn’t even include me on the list. Th-They didn’t want me there, and they were going to steal money from my mama.” Erik felt a wave of anger surge through him -- how dare someone take advantage of a boy’s family and then continue to bully him. “Please don’t make me go back there.”  
Erik looked back up at the boy, who wore sadness and slight desperation. After a few careful moments of consideration, the metal-bender encircled his larger hands around Peter’s small hand. He then gently closed Peter’s unclenched hand, making it wrap around the money.  
“I won’t make you go back there. After all, I’m sure you won’t want to spend the remainder of your summer surrounded by bullies and conformists.”  
“B-But what about the money?”  
“It’s your mother’s,” Erik gently replied, removing his hands from Peter's own. “It belongs to no one but her. Peter, I’m very sorry about what had happened. They had no right to do that to you or your family.”  
Peter shrugged, stuffing the money into his coat pocket in the process. “I’m just glad I’m not there with them. I like it here with you all.”  
“And we all enjoy your company. However, I need your word that you will not lie on that scale ever again. Lies have consequences, Peter. Promise me, right here and now, that you will never lie like that again.”  
Peter nodded while extending his small pinky. “I pinky promise.”  
Erik stared at the tiny limb for a few seconds before wrapped his own pinky around Peter’s. “Good.” A long pause. “So, I suspect that your mother isn’t out of town?” Peter swallowed, prompting Erik to pinch his nose. “Did she expect any kind of communication during the summer?”  
“Well, she said that I could write to her…”  
“Perhaps it would be best if you wrote a small, informative letter -- just to let her know that you’re safe.” Peter’s expression morphed to fear. “Do not worry. Tomorrow, we’ll mail this at the nearest post office. She won’t know that you’re here.”  
“Thank you, Erik.”  
The older mutant smiled before ruffling the boy’s white hair. “Now, shall we get started?”

The boy eagerly nodded before running up to his backpack. He took out a small, metal object and ran up to a small desk resting near the open window. Erik, who had stood up to grab a piece of paper, joined the small boy and leaned against the wooden desk. When his blue eyes landed on the metal pen resting in Peter’s hand, he couldn’t help the light, incredulous laugh.

“I can’t believe she kept it,” Erik muttered in disbelief.  
“What?”  
“N-Nothing. So, what shall we tell your mother?”  
“I already know what I want to write!” A long pause. “Erik?”  
“Yes, Peter?”  
“How do you spell adventure?”

After a good night’s sleep, as well as a three hour car ride the next morning, Peter and Erik found themselves exploring a small, isolated town outside of Westchester. They had traveled to the secluded location to mail Peter’s letter to his mother. While they had written the camp’s address on the envelop, they planned on intercepting Marya’s reply when it reached the post office they were currently in. When they finished the task, the duo decided to spend some time exploring the town. The population was exceptionally small, resulting in very little encounters with other beings. During their little adventure, they talked about some of the adventures they’d been on, as well as the achievements along the way.  
“You really lifted an entire anchor?!”  
Erik smirked. “Yes I did.”  
“Woah!”  
“Did you also notice something about the satellite dish?” Peter shook his head. “I moved it.”  
“Really?!”  
“Well… the main foundation is still intact. However, I did move the dish so that it’s now facing the mansion.”  
“That’s awesome!! How’d you do it?”  
“I just… needed the right motivation, is all.” Suddenly, a scream from a small alleyway grabbed the pair’s attention. “Peter, stay behind me.”

When the duo arrived at the secluded location, they were surprised when they found the alleyway completely empty, save for a small trashcan. Peter tilted his head when a scuffling sound echoed within the metal trashcan.  
“Stay here,” Erik ordered as he slowly approached the object.  
While Peter anxiously waited at the opening, Erik made his way to the metal can. With a deep breath, he quickly lifted the lid and peeked into the item, only to find a vintage toy monkey playing cymbals operating in the can.

Suddenly, two gunshots rang through the air. Erik snapped his head back to Peter, only to see two bullet wounds appear on the boy’s hip and chest. Then, seemingly in slow motion, Peter collapsed onto the pavement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUUUNN!!!
> 
> More to come very soon :D We'll see Erik kick ass and get all angsty :)
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Don't be shy :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> It's been a crazy week, so I'm sorry about the lack of updates. Here's another chapter!!
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

When Shaw had instructed Madame Hydra to spy on Erik Lehnsherr, he had described the metal-bender with more daunting, bone-chilling adjectives. He described his former lab rat as an unstable yet driven weapon, capable of mass destruction. Shaw described Erik a creation, his creation. So, naturally, when the female assassin began monitoring Erik, she fully expected to see a scar-riddled dictator barking orders at the occupants in the mansion. She expected to see the Holocaust survivor and proclaimed “weapon” wreak havoc unto the mansion, unto the world. But then… the little boy with white hair appeared.

During these last few weeks, Viper watched a different, contrasting side of Erik unveil itself. The seemingly unstoppable monster became a gentle, more patient being. Whenever her target was around the boy, it was as if a switch turned on. Erik -- Holocaust survivor, rouge weapon, damaged freak -- became human. It was through observations and patience that Viper concluded that the white-haired boy was more than Erik’s beam of hope: he was Erik’s achilles heel.

This revelation led her to this moment, where she stayed perched on a rooftop across the alleyway Erik and Peter were in. Bullwhip attached to her belt, the green-haired assassin aimed her M40 rifle at the boy’s back and skull: one bullet to incapacitate the boy, and the other to seal his fate. However, as she watched the duo from above, brief flashes appeared before her. They were memories of her witnessing Erik and Peter outside in the open field, exercising their powers. She recalled watching the older mutant comforting the younger one on the windowsill, both of them leaning into the side hug. She remembered Erik’s smile whenever the boy entered the room; it was a smile of pure happiness. With a sigh of confirmation, she decided that the second shot would be to the boy’s gut. While it didn’t necessarily mean that Peter would survive the wound, it did give him a far better chance than a bullet to the head. She had a job to do… but there was a part in her that genuinely enjoyed watching the “weapon” become a gentle friend to the boy. Taking a deep breath, she masterfully took the shots.

Erik could only stare in shock as Peter fell onto the ground. It was if someone had taken all of the air out of him, leaving him incapable of speaking, screaming, or even breathing. Then, as soon as the boy connected with the hard surface, time returned back to its normal speed… allowing him to scream.  
“PIETRO!!!”  
Without hesitation, Erik summoned the metal trashcan and firmly placed it directly in front of Peter, shielding him from future bullets. He then ran up to the boy and carefully pulled him to the damp brick wall. Protected by the trashcan, Erik fell to his knees and began to frantically examine the boy.

Two bullets went clean through the boy’s back and right hip, meaning that there was a totally of four wounds. The discovery had a positive and negative: while the threat of leftover shrapnel further harming Peter was gone, the severity of blood loss rose exponentially. Erik quickly placed his hands over the wound on Peter’s chest, earning him a weak hiss. When Peter tried to speak, the metal-bender immediately shushed him.  
“E-Eri-  
“Stay still and be quiet,” the other gently commanded.  
Erik snapped his head to the open street, which still remained deserted, and began to look for the perpetrator. When his piercing blue eyes landed on a feminine figure perched on top of the rooftop across from the alleyway, he let out a snarl.  
“Stay here.” Before he could take off, a weak hand frantically grabbed ahold of his sweater; that said everything he need to know. “I will not be far,” Erik quietly said as he placed his own hand on top of Peter’s. “I will come back.” He gently pried the boy’s hand off of his sleeve and guided it onto the wound on his hip, which was releasing a startling amount of blood. “Keep pressure on this and stay awake. Promise me you’ll stay here, okay?” When Peter shakily nodded, Erik squeezed his hand for a few moments. “I will come back for you,” he promised.  
Peter’s smile of hope and, most importantly, trust motivated Erik to run out into open fire.

Gaining enough speed and momentum, Erik launched himself from the ground and catapulted onto the rooftop where the green-haired lady was perched. The moment she raised her rifle to fire at him, Erik extended both of his palms towards the weapon and, with a clench of his hands, crumpled it into a useless ball. However, as the gun morphed into a sphere, Erik could see the bullets, in perfect form, falling from the ruined magazine. The bullets, he quickly realized, weren’t made of metal. His job became much more difficult. When he landed on the rooftop, the woman took out her bullwhip and cracked it onto the ground, its sound echoing throughout the town.  
“He’s just a kid,” Erik said, his voice wavering for a mere second. “What do you-”  
His eyes slowly moved down from her weapon to a small pin attached to her green trench coat. Without any warning, he used his powers to summon the pin from her coat towards his extended hand. When the small object landed, he didn’t need to carefully inspect it to know what it was, or rather, what it stood for.  
“You’re a member of the Hellfire Club.” Moria had shown him classified documents that were marked by their famous logo.  
“Very smart,” the other stated.  
“Why would you shoot a boy?” Then, the realization hit Erik hard. “Shaw…”  
Her silence was loud and clear. This was the moment she’d anticipated: she was finally going to see the weapon in action. Untamable waves of anger surged through the metal-bender. Without lifting a finger, he telekinetically crumpled the metal pin into a minuscule, almost microscopic, ball. Slowly moving his rage-filled eyes towards his opponent, he charged towards her.

Viper, who witnessed the sudden change in Erik’s personality, instantly move to a combative position. Using all of her force, she flung the whip directly at her target’s face. The metal-bender easily dodged what could’ve been a painful, and scarring, blow before he summoned all of the metal wires from the street below. Without wasting a single second, he launched all of the sharp cords directly at Viper, hoping that they would either hit her, trap her, or overwhelm her and throw off her strategy. However, much to his surprise, she gracefully leaped over all of the metal material, like an acrobat. As she flipped over them, she pulled out a Remington XP-100 and fired ten shots, directed at Erik, in less than four seconds. The other mutant used his powers to levitate a car door from below and use it as a shield. During their confrontation, Erik couldn’t help but watch his opponent with awe -- he’d never seen anyone that gracefully or determined in his entire life. When her feet touched the ground, Erik flung the door at her, giving her less than a second to leap over the heavy material. As she slide away from the incoming object, Erik tackled her and tried to pin her onto the ground. However, she managed to grab a hold of his jacket and ended up bringing him down with her. The pair fell from the building and onto the street.

For a few seconds, Erik laid in a daze. Falling from a few dozen feet and onto the solid ground knocked the wind out of him. Stars briefly danced across his line of vision, making it impossible for him to see Viper’s quick recovery from the fall. By the time his senses returned completely, the assassin was advancing towards Peter, who was beginning to fade. When her whip wrapped around the metal trash can and tossed it aside, exposing the white-haired mutant, Erik instantly stood up and stumbled towards his opponent, towards Peter. As he ran, he summoned more wires and launched them at Viper. He felt waves of satisfaction flow through him when some wires managed to wrap around her ankle. He flung his opponent away from Peter. As she flew behind him, Erik sprinted towards the boy and knelt in front of him.  
What were small dribbles of blood had quickly expanded to a pool. Peter’s palms, as well as shirt and jeans, were stained in the red substance. The metallic smell became far more noticeable. His skin had paled and nearly matched his white hair, greatly highlighting his dark eyes. Beads of sweat rested on his forehead and lips. His small frame, whether it be due to shock or pain, was trembling, increasing the blood flow. Overall, Peter looked like hell.  
The sound of a whip cracking the hard ground forced Erik to tear his eyes away from the boy to his opponent. When he saw that she had drawn her weapon, he instantly moved to stand protectively in front of Peter.

Despite the distance between the duo, Viper still had complete access to her opponent’s eyes; more specifically, the emotions they wore. His blue eyes understandably held rage and confusion. However, at a closer inspection, the assassin could see a more wide range of contrasting emotions. There was just as much confusion as there was confirmation; pain as there was anger; fear as there was courageousness; love as there was hatred. Those range of emotions in Erik’s eyes solidified her theory that the boy held far more value, at least in Erik’s eyes, than anyone would ever understand.  
Viper needed to take advantage of Erik’s vulnerability before he claimed her life.  
“Come now,” she said in a even tone, “do you really want the boy’s last vision to be the one where he witnesses his mentor claiming the life of his own kind? Do you really want the boy to die watching his hero kill in cold blood?”

Erik, who had stealthily levitated the assassin’s discarded Remington XP-100 to the back of her skull, froze. Throughout his time as a Nazi hunter -- hell, throughout his time in the camps --, an instinct was born. He learned to kill his enemies without remorse. He taught himself to believe inflicting merciless harm on his targets, the ones who stripped him of everything he held dear, was justified by his painful past. He convinced himself that his own voice, and the actions and consequences that obeyed, was the right voice. So now, as he stood across his opponent, his instinct to act rather than listen consumed his mind, nearly drowning him. But then, Peter’s whimper of pain brought him back from the depths.

When he had met Peter -- hell, when he had met Charles and the other students --, he was instantly thrown into a world of responsibility. These children observe, mimicked, and even admired his actions. Around the children, nearly nothing could never go unnoticed. His decisions now had witnesses and consequences that affect not just him, but those under his jurisdiction. For the first time in a while, Erik wasn’t alone… Killing Viper, while satisfying, could lead to even more deadly consequences. For everyone’s sake, including his own, Erik didn’t move for the kill. Not yet, anyways.

“There is limited time,” Viper stated coldly. “I suggest you move quickly before he succumbs-”  
“To the wounds you gave him,” Erik shot back.  
“I could’ve killed him like I’d been ordered to.” When she began to slowly approach Erik, spinning her whip in the process, Erik backed away until he and Peter were centimeters apart. “You’re very lucky I’m not like Shaw. Tick tock.”

Erik didn’t try to capture the assassin. Instead, he instantly moved to kneel in front of Peter, allowing Viper to make her escape. The boy was losing far too much blood from the four wounds that marked him. However, as the older mutant leaned closer to examine the injuries, he could see hints of green outlining the fresh wounds. The unusual color then trickled into the wounds and found its way into Peter’s system. It was at that moment that Peter let out a scream of pain. The bullets, Erik deducted, were laced with something. As he pressed his right hand onto the chest wound, the older mutant frantically looked around for shrapnel from the bullet to bring back for examination. When he found one embedded against the far brick wall, he extended his free palm towards the small object. The bullet didn’t budge, indicating that it was, like all of Viper’s other bullets, non-metal. Erik forced himself to run towards the hole and quickly extract the bullet from its cocoon. He ran back to Peter, slipping on the pool of blood in the process, before shrugging off his leather jacket and wrapping it around the boy’s shaking shoulders.  
The large jacket covering such a small frame made Peter look far more younger, more vulnerable, than Erik had ever seen him.

“Peter, can you hear me?”  
Dark, pain-ridden irises slowly found Erik’s blue eyes. “H-Hurts,” he gritted out.  
“I know it does,” Erik gently cooed as he tightened the jacket, “but I need you to be brave for me. Listen, I’m going to lift you up. Do you think you can hold onto me and stay awake?” After a few labored breaths, Peter shakily nodded. “Excellent. Everything will be okay, Peter.”  
Bracing himself, Erik slid one arm behind Peter’s back, while sliding the other underneath Peter’s legs. When he stood up, Peter let out another scream of pain. He’d grown a shade paler, now revealing soft bags underneath his already dark brown eyes. Erik could feel a small hand weakly grab ahold of his navy sweater. With a nod, Erik made his way out of the now bloody alleyway.

The metal-bender quickly moved to the nearest doctor’s office. Seeing that his hands were occupied, Erik kicked at the door.  
“Hello? I need some help!!!” No response. “Please open up!!”  
Frustrated, the metal-bender kicked open the door, ignoring the door hinges that flew through the air. When he entered the small facility, he was greeted by a bloody massacre. In the lobby alone, bodies of doctors, receptionists, and nurses laid on the ground. Each one of them had a bullet wound that was outlined by the same green substance that marked Peter’s wound. There were also strangulation marks that were made by some wire-like material… almost like a bullwhip. Viper had been here and made quick work of assassinating Peter’s only hope. Ignoring the sting of tears that slowly built up, Erik moved into the facility and continued to yell for help.  
“Someone!!! Please, I need help here!! Hello?!”  
Erik’s leather jacket, as well as dark sweater, began to absorb Peter’s blood, amplifying Erik’s own anxiety. Time running short, Erik burst into an empty examination room and set Peter onto the small examination bed. He frantically threw open doors and cabinets in order to search for medical supplies that would temporarily stop the blood flow until they arrived back at the mansion. In the end, he arrived back into Peter’s room with armfulls of bandages, gauzes, towels, and an empty brown knapsack. Without wasting a single second, he gently pulled the boy into a sitting position and tightly pressed some towels against the boy’s wounds. Peter yelped in pain.  
“Shh,” Erik cooed as he quickly tried to staunch the bleeding.  
“St-St-Stop.”  
“Do you want to die?” Peter nodded, making Erik roll his eyes. “So dramatic.”  
Peter smirked. “Y-Y-You g-g-got m-m-mad wh-when Sean b-beat you a-a-t pinball.”  
Damn. “Pinball is a very competitive sport,” Erik joked. “I’d say my anger was justified.”  
Eventually, Erik had bound the wounds to his best ability. He stuffed the remaining towels and bandages into the knapsack before throwing it over his shoulder. He then carefully lifted Peter back into his arms and ran towards the exit.

When he made it to the exit, dozens and dozens of cops stood in the street with their guns aimed at Erik and Peter.  
“Get down on the ground!!!”  
“Gentlemen, this boy is seriously wounded and all of your staff have been murdered. I need to get him home before-”  
“Get down or we will shoot!!”  
Peter looked over his shoulder and saw numerous guns pointed at him. He let out a heartbreaking whimper before weakly pressed his face against Erik’s chest. The metal-bender unconsciously began to rock the boy cradled in his arms.  
“It’s alright,” Erik whispered to the distressed boy. “I’m right here, Pietro.”  
“I’m giving you one last chance,” another cop shouted. “Get down or we will open fire!!”  
Despite maintaining eye contact with the troops, Erik had begun to silently levitate all surrounding cop cars into the air. He wasn’t going to kill the cops, not with Peter watching. He couldn’t waste time watching the enforcers of the unjust and broken pay their debts. Right now, he just needed to get Peter home.  
“Look up,” he merely stated.  
The cops obeyed and found large chunks of metal hovering above them all. They all turned back to Erik, who stared back at them in amusement.  
“Now gentlemen, I’m going to go to my car and bring this boy home. Meanwhile, as I drive away, you all are going to go home to your loved ones. Then, as you cradle your sons and daughters, and as you look into their eyes, know that you are all alive because you chose not to go down on a certain road on a certain day.”  
He didn’t wait for their response. He simply held the boy tighter and moved to his car, which was stationed near a convenience store. However, before he entered the vehicle, he looked back over at the men, who still had their weapons trained on him.  
“What are you?” a man asked.  
“A survivor.”  
He used his abilities to open the door and sit in the driver’s seat. He had Peter situated in his lap and against his chest. Then, as he sped off into the distance, he manipulated the cop cars so that they’d encircle the group of enforcers, creating a tall barrier that trapped the cops like animals.

Erik held the boy close to him as he sped towards the mansion. Twenty minutes into the journey, Peter’s labored breaths and whimpers went silent. He felt far more heavier, more limp. He was radiating too much warmth that was on the borderline of a fever. Worried, Erik looked down and gently moved Peter from his chest. The boy’s head only lolled.  
“Peter?” he whispered, giving the boy a gentle shake. “Peter?!” Nothing. “Pietro?!?!”  
The white towels over the boy’s wounds were completely soaked in blood. The metallic liquid continued to pour from the boy and cover Erik, as well as the leather interior on the seats. Panicking, Erik let go of the wheel and began to apply new towels and bandages to the boy. His hands began to shake, fearing that his touch alone would seal Peter’s fate. It also wasn’t helping that he had to dedicate a chunk of his mental energy controlling the car with his powers. After five minutes of cursing and shaking, Erik pulled the boy close to him, tucking the white mop of hair underneath his chin.  
“Don’t go,” he whispered, finally allowing a couple of tears to slide down his cheeks. “Pietro, please don’t go…”

Charles and Raven were sitting in the kitchen, talking about the same nonsense about mutant pride and conformity.  
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a part of society, Raven.”  
“True, but we shouldn’t have to compromise our identities. If society doesn’t accept us, then why should we-”  
“Shh,” Charles cut off, raising his hand to his temple.  
“What’s the matter?”  
Charles didn’t respond, but rather moved from the island towards the entrance of the mansion, where the invisible presence grew louder and louder. He opened the door, Raven behind him, and stood out in the open courtyard, where pain and fear radiated. Never in his entire life had Charles sensed such desperation and terror. Then, the voice in his head became more familiar… too familiar. Before he could state his name, a car came to a screeching halt to the entrance. The door was thrown open, revealing a horrific sight.

The first thing Charles caught was the alarming amount of blood. An unconscious Peter Maximoff was drenched in blood… his own blood. More blood trickled from his small frame and onto the gravel below, creating a small pool underneath him. He looked too pale and feverish. Charles’ sapphire eyes traveled from the boy to the man who was cradling him. Erik was trembling in shock. His hands, arms, sweater, and jeans were stained in Peter’s blood. Unshed tears threatened to fall down his already wet cheeks. While Raven covered her mouth in shock, Charles could only stare in horror.

“Help,” Erik pleaded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst to come!! Plus, an unexpected confession ;)  
> I had to borrow Erik's threat to the cops from Fargo, a magnificent miniseries :D  
> The original went as followed: "I'm gonna roll my window up, then I'm going to drive away and you're gonna go home to your daughter. And every few years you're gonna look at her face and know that you're alive because you chose not to go down on a certain road on a certain night. That you chose to walk into the light instead of into the darkness."  
> All credit goes to the writers of Fargo
> 
>  
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Don't be shy :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> As promised, here is another chapter!!!
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

Raven shifted to her blue form and sprinted back into the mansion, screaming for Hank. Meanwhile, Erik ran into the facility and towards Hank’s medical room. Charles, who was right on his friend’s heels, frantically asked numerous questions.  
“I thought you two were just running to the post office!! What happened?! Why didn’t you say anything?!”  
Erik ignored his friend and focused completely on getting Peter medical attention. During their journey, Charles looked back and saw a dribbles of blood leaving a trail behind the trio.

When Erik and Charles arrived at Hank’s medical room, the metal-bender nearly ripped the door from its foundation. He ran up to an examination table and carefully laid his charge down, who continued to remain in the dream world. Charles assisted his friend with the task of removing all of the blood-soaked clothes and makeshift patches from Peter. When the telepath carefully unwrapped Erik’s leather jacket from the boy’s shoulders, he carelessly tossed it onto the ground, wincing as it made a wet slap when it connected with the sterile floor. Meanwhile, Erik had delicately unwrapped the bandages around Peter’s waist and chest that held the now completely red towels against the wounds. He didn’t even apply pressure to the towels when absorbed blood began to leak from the material.  
“My friend,” Charles began, “is there anything-”  
“Apply pressure to his hip,” Erik ordered like a drill sergeant.  
Charles wasn’t keen on interacting with large quantities of blood, but he knew that a life was on the line. Actually, two lives were on the line. If Peter didn’t survive, the telepath could assume that Erik himself would also drown in guilt and rage. His fears were confirmed when he dipped into the metal-bender’s mind and was greeted with an endless flood of regret.  
_‘This is all my fault,’_ Erik’s consciousness repeated.  _'This is all my fault.'_  
Suddenly, Hank and Raven ran into the room. When the genius took in Peter’s condition, as well as the alarming amount of blood that stained the room and Erik, he stopped dead in his tracks.  
“Oh my god.”  
“Don’t just stand there! Help him!!!”  
Hank shook away the shock before immediately jumping into his doctor mode. Raven, who anxiously stood near the entrance, called to her brother.  
“Is there anything I can do to help?”  
“Keep the others out of this room,” Charles gently ordered. “Hank needs to concentrate on saving Peter. Make sure that no one, not even Moria, enters this room.”  
Raven, who had shifted back to her human form, nodded. “Let me know how the kid’s doing, okay?”  
“I will. Thank you, Raven.”  
When the shifter exited the room, Charles removed his hand from Peter’s hip wound and began to, or rather tried to, guide Erik out of the medical room. “Erik, you need to let go and-”  
“No!” he countered, pressing his hands even tighter against Peter’s chest.  
“Peter may die if we do not give Hank the proper space to heal him.”  
The genius could sense Erik’s reluctance. “I’ll do everything in my power make sure he pulls through,” he stated as he filled a syringe with anesthetic. “He’s going to be okay.”  
Erik could’ve fought all day if he had to. However, his stubbornness and fear could result in the death of Peter. With a sigh, he slowly removed his hands from Peter’s chest. He stared at the small and pale frame for a few moments, silently begging for him to hold on. When he was finished, he bent down to pick up his discarded jacket before reaching into his pocket.  
“This is shrapnel from a bullet he was shot with,” he said as he placed the metal object onto a nearby tool table. “I think it was laced with something.”  
“Thank you, Erik. I’ll be sure to examine it later.”  
Charles grabbed a hold of his friend’s forearm and gently guided him away from the medical wing, away from the boy whose life was now at stake.

Erik, who had now cleaned himself up, threw his bloodstained clothes into the washing machine. The already thick material was weighed down even further due to Peter’s blood. Out of curiosity, he even squeezed his sweater and winced when trickles of blood dripped onto the wooden floor. When he finished loading, he added the soap before striding to Moria’s office. The CIA agent, who had been informed of the incident, automatically stood up when Erik entered her place.  
“Erik, I heard what happened. Is he-”  
“I need every file you have on the Hellfire Club.”  
“What?”  
“I’m not going to repeat myself.”  
“That’s confidential information. Access to those documents is not granted to anyone at any given moment.”  
“A member from that club shot Peter,” Erik growled, his blue eyes briefly flashing with anger. “The woman responsible for the attack is an ally of Shaw!”  
“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you-”  
“Why not?!”  
“Because you’re not in the right state of mind.” Erik and Moria looked over to see Charles leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. “Erik, I understand that you’re upset over the entire ordeal.”  
“Believe me, Charles, your telepathy doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.”  
“Moria, I apologize for his outburst. He and I will have a talk in private. Perhaps then, he’ll be more reasonable.”  
Before the metal-bender could argue, Charles strode over to his friend and not-so-gently guided him out of Moria’s office.

“What is wrong with you?” Charles asked as he led Erik to an empty living room. “Your request could jeopardize Moria’s career and the children’s safety.”  
“A six year old boy got shot and you’re worried about Moria’s career?” Erik asked incredulously.  
“If the CIA track us down, or if Shaw and his allies do so, then everyone here is in extreme danger. We cannot pursue one without affecting the other.”  
“Who is to say that the assassin won’t come back to finish the job? Who is to say that she won’t harm anyone else here? Charles, there are moments in life where patience is not always the best option.”  
“Okay then, say we do track down Peter’s attacker: what do we do with her?”  
“Interrogate her.”  
“Then what? I don’t believe that you’ll want to let her walk freely, and making them a member of this foundation is already off the tables.” Charles didn’t need to read Erik’s mind to put two-and-two together. “Absolutely not, Erik! She’s just a mere pawn under Shaw’s rule.”  
“Pawns still have free will. They possess the power to rebel against authority or anyone who threatens their core values! That woman choose to accept Shaw’s mission and, therefore, must accept the consequences.”  
“She could’ve been blackmailed! You of all people are aware of Shaw’s disregard for human life. He could’ve given her an ultimatum or-”  
“If any of your theories were correct, then she would’ve talked to me rather than automatically shoot Peter. During our confrontation, there wasn’t a single trace of remorse or compassion in her eyes.”  
“Why must you always resort to violence?”  
Erik nearly stomped over to his friend, anger clear in his eyes. “Those men who herded my family and millions of others were not concerned about brutality. The guards in the camps, as well as the policemen in Vinnitsa, disregarded compassion. Through senseless acts of violence, homo sapiens continue to persecute and discriminate our kind simply because they fear the unknown!! All of those men resorted to violence in a heartbeat, so why shouldn’t we?!” When Charles opened his mouth to argue, Erik proposed a different scenario. “What if Raven had been shot? Or Sean? Or Alex? Or even Hank and Moria? There isn’t a part of you that wouldn’t want to extract vengeance and justice? There isn’t a single cell in your body that wouldn’t even consider retaliation.”  
The telepath contemplated his friend’s question before answering, “No.”  
“You’re lying.”  
“Erik, why are you so invested in hunting down this assassin?”  
“BECAUSE SHE SHOT MY GODDAMN SON!!!”

Charles’ world came to a halt. Erik’s words reverberated in his mind, alternating his reality. The telepath stared at his friend agap. Meanwhile, Erik himself wore a look of instant regret and confusion. The duo stared at each other for seconds, possibly minutes, while they tried to gather their thoughts and questions. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Charles took the initiative to speak first.

“Oh my god…”  
“Charles, don’t-”  
“Peter’s your son?!”  
Erik considered lying, but he knew that it would be futile… especially considering that his friend was a mind reader. “Yes.”  
For a few extra moments, Charles could only stare at his friend as he recovered from the sucker-punch that was the revelation. Then, he let out an enormous smile, his heart leaping with happiness.  
“That… makes complete sense!!” That wasn’t the reaction Erik was anticipating. “Think about it: from the moment we met Peter, he was more drawn to you than me! Everyday at the mansion, he prefered being around you than anyone else here!! When you were injured during the cabin confrontation, he refused to leave your side.” Charles was getting a little too excited. “Ever since we arrived here, he’s always directed his trust, admiration, and hope towards you!!” The telepath was nearly bouncing on his heels. “This is outstanding!!”  
“You will not breathe a single word of this to anyone-”  
“Of course, my-”  
“-including Peter.”  
Charles almost did a double take. “What?”  
“The boy isn’t aware of our connection, and I intend on keeping it that way,” Erik stated, calming Charles’ elation.  
“Erik…he has a right to know who is father is.”  
“No he doesn’t.”  
“Why?” There wasn’t accusation in Charles’ voice; only curiosity and confusion.  
For a few moments, Erik stared at his friend, unable to release his explanation, his history, to Charles. Eventually, he let out a sad sigh before tapping his fingers against the side of his head. Charles, hesitant about the request, slowly approached his friend.  
“Are you sure?” Erik nodded. “Okay.”

Charles placed both pairs of his middle and index fingers on each side of Erik’s head. Then, with utmost care, he searched his friend’s mind. He relieved each and every tragedy that led him to this exact moment. He witnessed the fall of an innocent boy, and the rise of a scarred yet powerful man. He watched Shaw strip Erik of everything he loved and valued -- his dignity, his freedom, and, most importantly, his family. His memories of Shaw, and every single being who had hurt him and those he loved, resulted in his uncompromisable desire to protect Peter -- his son, his last remaining blood relative. When Charles removed himself from Erik’s consciousness, he watched his friend struggle to compose himself. Erik’s determination to show little vulnerability succeeded, for he hastily cleared his throat and wiped away a stray tear.

“Erik… I’m so-”  
“Do you see why I cannot tell Peter the truth? There are people out there, enemies that I’ve acquired, who would enjoy torturing me until the end of time.” Erik shook his head. “He’ll be a goner if he becomes associated with me.”  
“That’s absolute nonsense!”  
“You saw my memories, right? Then you know that those I love, those I consider family, always perish whenever I’m around. Peter will be no different…”  
“Erik-”  
“He’s dying, Charles.” Erik swallowed a lump growing in his throat. “He’s dying because Shaw intentionally targeted him in order to provoke me.”  
The telepath sighed. “My friend, Peter will pull through with flying colors. After all, he has your resilience. He’s a very strong boy, and I know that he will bounce back.”  
“And if he doesn’t?” Charles didn’t have a response. “Optimism can only carry on for so long, my friend.”  
When Erik began to walk out of the living room, Charles stopped him. “Peter also carries your intelligence. Sooner or later, he will eventually discover who he is and who you are. Do you really want to prolong the inevitable?”  
“If it will protect him, then yes.”  
“Then what? How will you explain to your son why you left him and why you choose to hide such an enormous secret for so long?”  
Erik looked over his shoulder to look back at his friend’s blue eyes. “By the time he discovers who I am, I’ll be long gone.”  
“Erik-”  
“It’s for the best, Charles.”  
“Are you sure about that?”  
Erik exited the room, leaving a dumbfounded and disappointed Charles alone.

Three hours later, the duo were called to the medical room to get an update on Peter’s condition.  
When they arrived, they were greeted by labored, pain-filled breaths that filled the room. Erik hadn’t even entered the room, yet he could already tell that the boy was hurting bad. Fully in the room, he and Charles were greeted by a very somber scene.  
Peter, pale and asleep, laid on a hospital bed. The thin sheets were only pulled up to his torso, exposing the two long bandages that wrapped around his chest and hip. To his left side rested a half-empty blood bag, hanging from a pole, that was supplying the boy with the vital fluids he lost. To his right was an IV drip, which also hung on a pole, as well as two machines -- one of them being a heart monitor. According to the monitor, and much to Erik’s concern, Peter’s heartbeat wasn’t even or steady, but rather accelerated and erratic. Even unconscious, the boy couldn’t escape pain. The metal-bender’s blue eyes slowly traveled from the machines to Peter’s face. There was a nasal cannula that extended from Peter’s nose to the second machine. As Erik moved closer to the boy, he could see a thin layer of sweet coat the younger mutant’ brow, making some strands of white hair not only look silver, but also stick to his forehead. 

Charles watched his friend examine the boy, his son. The revelation helped the telepath view Erik and Peter's relationship in a different light. Their behavior towards one another held much more significance. Their suspicious and impulsive decisions, both past and present, were not random...but rather calculated attempts to protect each other from harm. Their evolving personalities -- Erik has become more compassionate and patient, while Peter has grown to be more courageous and headstrong -- were results of their developing relationship. They balanced each other out, and have even become dependent on each other's advice, courage, and hope. Charles' concern for Peter's health tripled: if he died, Lord only knows the road Erik could travel on.

The two men were so wrapped in watching Peter that Hank’s entrance had taken them by surprise.  
“Well?” Erik asked, purposefully balancing his voice.  
“The two bullets went clean through him,” Hank began as he moved to grab a clipboard. “They missed major arteries and didn’t leave any permanent damage.”  
When Erik let his shoulders fall in relief, he noticed a small smile appearing on his student’s face. “What?”  
“It’s just… I’ve never witnessed a mutant with such advanced healing abilities.” Erik raised his eyebrow. “Peter can heal more rapidly than the average human, let alone mutant. Even before I attached the blood drip, his body already began to regenerate blood. He’s still lost quite a bit, but any normal person would’ve succumbed to blood loss that massive.”  
Erik was understandably hit with guilt: Peter's mutation alone saved his life -- without it, he would've been dead.   
“If he possesses developed healing, then why does he still look like he’s in pain?”  
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you two about.” With Erik and Charles on his heels, Hank made his way towards a microscope resting on a counter. “That bullet you gave me was laced with some kind of poison. See?”

Charles first looked through the microscope. On the small plate was a sample of the poison. Its cells were green and, surprisingly, erratic -- unlike blood cells, this poison moved in unpredictable and inconsistent patterns. It almost looked like an earthquake. Hank then directed Charles to the second microscope, which unveiled a frightening scene. On the slide, there was another sample of Peter's blood, as well as portions of the poison. The telepath watched, before his very eyes, the toxin slowly absorb Peter's cells, as if it were a sponge. The moment the two liquids connected, the boy's cells began to mimic the erratic and unpredictable movements of the poison. Eventually, his cells would weaken and permit the toxin to consume them.

  
“Peter's blood cells are overwhelmed by the poison," Hank explained "He's spending an enourmous amout of energy trying to combat the toxin."  
“And he’s losing the battle,” Erik concluded.  
“To some extent… yes.”  
“Is there any concoction that can counter the effects and wipe out the toxin?” Charles asked.  
“I’ve tried everything, but the poison keeps regenerating cells faster than any cure.”  
“So what do we do?”  
Hank sighed. “Be there for him and hopefully it will end.”  
“And if it doesn’t?”  
The genius’ silence said everything.

Long after Hank and Charles exited the medical room, Erik remained situated beside Peter. The silence amplified the boy’s labored breaths, groans, and whimpers. Each noise of distress twisted Erik’s heart; he hated being this powerless. The only thing Erik could do was sit by his son’s side and pray that his son would heal, as well as be relieved from the agonizing pain. The metal-bender lost track of the minutes, but then-  
“Erik, come with me,” a familiar, posh voice gently ordered.  
The metal-bender snapped his gaze from Peter to Charles, who was impatiently leaning against the doorframe. Erik squeezed his son’s arm before striding over to his friend. The telepath motioned Erik to follow him down the hallway and towards Cerebro.

“Charles, what-”   
Erik was cut off when a file was shoved against his chest. “Moria granted me access to Madame Hydra’s file,” Charles stated.  
“Really?” Erik asked while he scanned the documents. “I can’t imagine a CIA agent be so willing to hand over confidential documents to a man she’s only known for a couple of weeks.” Charles remained silent and diverted his eyes to the tile floor. “My friend,” Erik smirked, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”  
“I had to manipulate her in order to save Peter. Hank said that the toxin was overpowering Peter’s blood cells. If Peter has advanced healing, it doesn’t make sense that he could succumb to something like a simple toxin. Hydra is a mutant, Erik.” To confirm Charles’ claim, Erik continued to look over her profile. “According to her record, she’s an exceptional marksman.”  
“That explains a lot,” Erik mumbled.  
“She’s also known to lace her weapons with concoctions of her own creation.”  
Then, the lightbulb in Erik’s head went off. “She’ll have the antidote.”  
“Exactly.”

When the duo approached Cerebro’s entrance, Charles grabbed his friend’s sleeve. “Erik, if I’m going to locate this assassin, I need you to promise something to me.”  
Erik sighed. “I won’t kill her.”  
“I mean it,” Charles snapped back, his usually gentle voice leaving no room for compromise. “I’m very aware of your headstrong and impetuous nature. Killing her could ignite a war and endanger everyone here, including Peter.”  
“Do not use my son as a tool for compassion,” Erik snapped. “I’ll do what I believe is necessary.”  
“Actions have consequences, my friend.”  
“I’m very aware of that.”  
“Erik… please don’t kill her.”  
The pair stared at each other, reading their eyes to search for their true intentions.

Deep down, Charles knew that Erik had already made up his mind. Erik’s love and loyalty towards his family was, out everything else, his defining trait. He’d move heaven and earth, break every rule known to man, and dedicate his entire life to protecting or avenging those he loved. He spent the last decade hunting down Shaw and any Nazi who participated in the slaughters at the camps -- Viper, an assassin sent by Shaw to execute Peter, would be no exception.

Erik’s desire to kill Viper was embedded in the concept of family. He wasn’t doing this just for Peter, but also for everyone here -- Raven, Alex, Sean, Hank, and Charles. Shaw’s aware of Erik’s connection with the mutants here, meaning that he’d do everything in his power to take that away from him. These children, as well as Charles, offered the metal-bender a different life, one away from loneliness and anger. Everyone at the mansion tested his strengths, increased his patience, fueled his hope, and, most importantly, gave him a family… to some extent. Erik needed to kill Viper, an ally of Shaw, before she informed her boss about the mutant’s sanctuary.  
Besides, she nearly claimed Peter’s life -- there was no way in hell she was going to take Charles or the students too. Anyone who dared hurt his family never lived to see another day… Erik made sure of it.

“So,” Charles began, “are you ready for this?”  
Without missing a beat, Erik nodded his head, determination written clearly in his blue eyes. “Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More BAMF!Erik to come shortly!
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Don't be shy :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> This was a VERY difficult chapter to write, so I apologize in advance for any cringe worthy lines or lame action sequences. I didn't want to linger long on certain moments, so it may come out awkward :/
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

Madame Hydra leaned against an abandoned warehouse in Yonkers, New York. As she cleaned her rifle with the utmost care, she couldn’t stop the snort of satisfaction from escaping.

Three hours ago, she had received a call from none other than Erik Lehnsherr. Despite the poor connection, she could hear the defeat and devastation crystal clear -- she had killed the boy. In exchange for the guaranteed safety of the remaining occupants at the mansion, Erik had agreed to turn himself in to Shaw. While her job obligated her to approve of his offer, her survival instincts permitted her to carry numerous weapons with her in case things went sideways. She was ready for anyone and anything… or so she thought.

The distant sound of a car dragging on gravel tore her eyes from her rifle. She immediately placed it in nearby bushes before straightening her posture, wanting to make herself presentable. When the car finally came to a halt a few feet from her own boots, out came Erik Lehnsherr, exhausted with red-rimmed eyes. The fire that she saw in his eyes had dimmed to ash, leaving no spark of energy or hope. His posture, once representing authority and confidence, was now slumped. Even before he spoke, Viper knew that the balance and control in Erik’s voice was long gone. She had broken the infamous Erik Lehnsherr.

“Well well well, isn’t this-”  
“Save your mockery,” Erik growled back.  
“I’d rather not.” Viper smirked before slowly approaching the metal-bender. “It is very hard to believe that a mutant capable of mass destruction hold such primitive weaknesses.” Erik remained silent and still as the assassin began to circle him, like a wolf evaluating its prey before the slaughter. “The death of a little boy, a kid who held little significance in this world, is what unveiled the monster’s heart.” The fire in Erik’s eyes briefly returned. “You sacrificed power, progress, and freedom for a small stranger with white hair.” Viper shook her head in disbelief. “My boss was right; you are full of surprises. Tell me, what value did a six year old boy have to an unstoppable machine like yourself?”  
Erik swallowed, trying to suppress the incoming sob. “I saw myself in him,” he stated honestly. “He reminded me of myself, before Shaw and the Holocaust. I guess I wanted to reclaim, or, at least, experience what I had lost: freedom, innocence, optimism, and hope.”  
Viper shook her head in pity. “Well, where I’m going to take you, the opportunity to reclaim what you lost will not be far.”  
“Will this place bring back my mother, and everyone else who’d perished in the hands of dictators and homo sapiens?” No response. “There are some things that are irreplaceable…”  
“I was thinking more along the lines of dignity and control.”  
“Do you honestly believe that power holds more importance than family?”  
“It’s who we are, Erik. Society has reduced our world to a single instinct: survive.”  
Surprisingly, Erik began to laugh to himself. “That is correct, Madame Hydra.” The assassin tilted her head, her right hand slowly reaching for the rifle hidden in the bush beside her. “Survival outweighs the other aspects of life. So, according to you, power and control over the vulnerable and the oppressed is what keeps you alive. Well, there is something you should know about myself: the state of my family and friends determines my existence. When one of them falls, I stop at nothing to avenge them…”

Then, much to Viper’s confusion, blue scales slowly began to consume Erik. His clothes were replaced by smooth, blue skin that occasional held leftover scales. His piercing blue eyes turned process yellow, mirroring a cat’s. Ginger hair turned fiery red. Eventually, the assassin found herself staring at a naked, blue female mutant.   
“Behind you,” the stranger smirked.  
When Viper turned around, wires and wires of metal instantly wrapped around her wrists, making it impossible for her to break free. When she instinctively kicked her feet like a wild animal, more wire wrapped around her ankles. She was completely immobile. Before she could protest, she was suddenly lifted from the ground and levitated into the empty and abandoned warehouse, away from witnesses.

The invisible force pinned her against a rusty, faded wall covered in mold and old graffiti. For a few moments, she remained immobilized, her grunts and growls echoing throughout the facility. Soon, however, the sound of boots joined the symphony. Entering the space from across the room was Erik Lehnsherr, as well as another man with wavy brown hair and sapphire blue eyes. The two men glanced at each other before approaching their hostage. When they arrived to Viper, the blue mutant quickly joined the other men, carrying the assassin’s weapons.

“Was my performance satisfactory?” the blue mutant asked as she handed the rifle to Erik.  
“It was lovely, Raven,” the brunnette responded, pulling her into a brief hug. “Surprisingly accurate!"  
“More or less,” Erik added. “It was a little too angsty for my taste.”  
Raven shrugged her shoulders. “Hey, I call it as I see it. Besides, it got the job done.”  
“It did indeed,” Charles concluded before he turned his attention to the trapped woman. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’d be lying.”  
“Let me go!” the assassin screamed as she struggled against her bonds.  
“Where is the antidote?” Erik asked, his blue eyes piercing Viper’s own green ones.  
“What are you-”  
“You have a history of creating your own concoctions to use in combat. Peter was shot with poison-laced bullets of your creation.”  
Despite being confined, Viper smirked. “So, the boy lived-”  
“Tell us how to counter the effects-”  
“Or what?”

Erik didn’t lift a finger when the discarded rifle slowly crumpled into a disposable ball, rendering it useless. His uncompromising and cold gaze didn’t falter for a single second -- even as the manipulated metal screeched and groaned, Erik remained unfazed while the others winced. When the weapon was reduced to a ball, he telekinetically dropped it onto the ground before approaching the assassin.

“Did your client mention who I am?”  
“They said that you were a rogue weapon, a monster capable of mass destruction.”  
“Correct. My reputation is not based on rumors or myths. For a decade, I have pursued every being who dared harm anyone I cared for. My gifts have allowed me to effectively annihilate my enemies and tormentors without leaving a single trace behind. So, believe me when I say that killing you will not be hard. To me, you’re nothing but an insignificant pawn blinded by hedonistic pleasure.”  
“Erik,” Charles whispered, “take it easy.”  
“Tell me how to cure the boy!”

When the assassin merely smirked, Charles could immediately sense Erik’s patience wearing thin. The telepath could feel the desire to kill growing within Erik, threatening to consume him. If his repressed rage took control, his powers would also run wild, threatening the well-beings of everyone in the facility, including Raven. Charles refused to let Erik’s rage and pain compromise his sister’s health.  
So, for the second time this past day… he broke his own rule.

“Ms. Hydra, if you do not come forward then I’ll forcibly extract the information from your consciousness.”  
Erik and Raven, both surprised by Charles’ change in character, turned to look at him. “Charles, what are you doing?” Raven inquired.  
“What’s necessary for Peter and everyone here.” He turned back to Viper and allowed his once gentle blue eyes to harden, leaving no room for sympathy or weakness. “I’ve never believed in abusing my gifts for personal gain. I’ve always asked for consent before entering one’s mind. This time, given the circumstances, I have no choice… unless you verbally bring forth the cure. So please, tell us how to undo the toxin’s effects.”  
Viper’s green eyes traveled from Erik to Charles, and back again.

Another observation she had made while spying on Erik is the relationship the boy had with Charles. Similar to Erik, the white-haired boy triggered unfound emotions within the elder men. Peter revealed Erik’s sympathetic and gentle nature, while highlighting Charles’ own darker and authoritative side. Whenever the boy was around the two men, it was if their roles reversed. This changed her entire game-plan. She had prepared to combat another mutant who possessed powers that were more physical. She hadn’t expected to fight a telepath, someone capable of reading and destroying every personal memory. She monitored the pacifist and the anarchist, preparing to battle one over the other. She didn’t expect for their roles to reverse; she wasn’t ready for a telepathic pacifist to unleash his darkness.

“In my car,” she gritted out, “there is a serum in the glove compartment. It’s capable of countering the effects of the poison.”  
“Why do you carry them if you yourself are immune?” Erik asked, not fully believing the assassin’s confession.  
“Allies aren’t immune. I always carry toxins, both capable of harm and healing, in case jobs turn sideways.”  
Erik glanced at Charles, who wordlessly pressed his fingers against the side of his head. After a few moments of silence, the telepath nodded.  
“She’s telling the truth.”  
Raven quickly walked out of the warehouse and, after a few moments, returned with a medium leather pouch. Erik kept one hand extended towards Viper, while using the other to open the pouch to unveil the serum. The liquid was brown, much to everyone’s disgust. Despite it’s repulsive color, Erik allowed his hope to rise.  
“What are the side effects of the serum?”  
“His body will endure pain,” Viper replied honestly. “The serum’s job is to erase the poison within the boy’s system. However, the process can be extremely painful, even agonizing. Those whose bodies have accepted the serum reported that it felt like acid.” Erik swallowed. “It’s destroying the serum, but at the cost of discomfort.”  
The metal-bender looked at the serum in his hand, carefully examining the vial. He knew what needed to be done, yet it absolutely killed him knowing that he’d put Peter through even more pain. However, despite his reluctance, the decision was made the moment he held the cure in his hands. If Peter died… then Erik didn’t know what would happen.  
“Charles, take Raven and wait in the car.”  
The telepath eyed his friend carefully. “What about you?”  
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”  
“Erik-”  
“Just go.”  
While Raven slowly took the vial from Erik’s hands, Charles remained still. He looked directly into Erik’s own blue eyes and made his plea.  
“Erik, I’m not going to force you to do anything. However, I implore you to think rationally. Killing her could alert Shaw and bring him to the mansion, to the students… to Peter.” Charles could feel Erik beginning to resist his words, so he pushed on. “My friend… I will never know what you’re feeling. My telepathy allows me to get a glimpse of emotions, but never fully experience them. The horrors and tragedies you’ve endured are your own, and I have absolutely no right to make your pain my own. But please, think about the consequences. You have the power to be the better man.”  
Erik looked at Charles with watery eyes. Not wanting to expose his true emotions, as well as secret, to Viper and Raven, the metal-bender silently added his own two cents.  
_‘She nearly took him from me.’  
_ He didn’t need to say anything else, and Charles didn’t persuade him to. The true weight of Erik’s past would never be understood by anyone except Erik himself. Nobody would feel his pain, meaning that they had no right to tell him how to feel… and how to act. With a pat on the shoulder, Charles slowly led Raven towards the exit, away from the duo, sparing his friend a glance.

Alone at last, Erik stared at the trapped assassin. The environment became tense, nearly suffocating. Finally, after what felt like a decade, he freed the assassin from her metal bonds. However, despite her newly acquired freedom, Viper made no move to run or retaliate, knowing very well that the telepath and the shifter were right outside. Finally, the assassin spoke up.  
“Was the shifter lying? Do you really see yourself in the boy?”  
Erik’s instinct was to say, “Yes.” However, for his privacy and dignity, as well as Peter’s own protection, Erik shook his head.  
“No. My friend is a very convincing liar. Hell, there were times when I myself believed her words too. I just see... a lot of potential in him.” A long pause. “Why? Why him?”  
“My client wanted to recruit you.”  
“For?”  
“Mutant domination. Erik, he shares similar beliefs like yourself. My client envisions a world where our kind can live freely without limitations or discriminatory policies. He believes that we are far more evolved than homo sapiens, and he knew that recruiting you, a man with a similar vision, could further his progress.”  
Erik tilted his head. “That word: client. There’s something very off about its usage. Perhaps the word you’re looking for is boss?”  
“Nobody is my boss,” Viper snapped back. “I’m pledged to no one!”  
Erik wordlessly reached into his pocket and revealed a Hellfire Club pin supplied by Moria…who was controlled by Charles. “I believe you wore this during our confrontation?”.  
Despite the evidence, Viper continued to deny Erik’s theory. “I am associated with them, but I acted on no one’s authority. I’m bound to no one, man or mutant.”  
“My complicated history with Sebastian Shaw says otherwise.” The mutant crossed his arms. “I’ve known him far longer than you have, and believe me when I say that he will not protect you. He’ll go to great lengths to ensure his vision, including sacrificing his own henchmen. The moment he reaches his goal, the value he saw in you expires permanently.” Erik levitated the pin into Viper’s palm. “Shaw continues to target me because he still thinks that I have potential to unlock. He hunts down anyone I consider family because he believes my loneliness and rage will drive me to join him, my creator, in his mutant cause.” Erik paused, swallowing a lump in his throat. “That’s why he sent you to kill Peter. He sees my life, as well as your own, as worthless. Once he reaches his goal, he’ll dispose the both of us in a heartbeat.”  
Erik could see Viper processing his words. While she didn’t outwardly express her true emotions, he could detect the realization and regret. He didn’t consider his words a warning to the assassin… but at the same time, he saw it as a step forward in dismembering Shaw’s growing army. In order to defeat anyone in power, the first step is to find their weaknesses and cut off their resources.  
“So,” Viper began as she shifted in her place, “what happens now?”  
“There are two options: I could kill you-” Viper immediately reached for her bullwhip, but stopped short when metal wires slowly morphed together to create a sharp spear capable of slicing through flesh and bone as if they were butter. “I could save you the humiliation of returning back to Shaw empty handed and kill on right here and now. Besides, killing you would strip him of the thrill of the kill. Either way, I’d strip him of an ally and a hedonistic pleasure.”  
For the first time since their encounter, Erik could see fear written in Viper’s eyes. “Wh-What's the second option?” she asked, her voice wavering for a mere moment.  
The metal-bender smirked.  
  
Charles and Raven were impatiently waiting in their car. While the shifter was lying in the back seat, the telepath held the vial that could potentially save Peter’s life, as well as Erik’s goodness.  
“Where do you think he is?” Raven asked, her eyes not leaving the ceiling.  
“I don’t know.”  
“Do you think Erik killed her?”  
Charles swallowed his fear. “I’d like to believe that he didn’t-”  
“But there’s still a possibility, right?”  
Then, as if on cue, the driver’s door opened and Erik plopped right onto the seat. He immediately started the engine before speeding off away from the abandoned warehouse and towards Peter.

“What happened back there?” Raven asked.  
“She and I had a little chat.”  
“And?” Charles added.  
Erik tore his gaze from the road and looked at his friend. “Shaw just lost a very powerful ally.”  
Raven and Charles glanced at each other, unsure of what to make of Erik’s cryptic response. For the remainder of the car ride towards the mansion, the three passengers remained silent, each one of them lost in their own thoughts.

Raven spent the ride trying to solve the truth behind Erik’s words, wanting to know if he had killed the assassin or not. Charles, on the other hand, spend the journey trying to convince himself that his friend had made the safest and noblest choice.

And Erik? The entire ride back, the metal-bender’s mind was focused on the wellbeing of a single person: his son, Peter Maximoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come very soon :D
> 
> I meant to post this a LONG time ago, but I have a tumblr!! If any of y'all wanna check it out and chat with me, I'd be down :D  
> Plus, if anyone has any dadneto prompts (hurt/comfort, AU, fluff, angst, etc.) then please feel free to send them in the ask box too :D I'd be down to writing short drabbles of your prompts :)
> 
> http://cluelessfanperson.tumblr.com
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Please feel free to write them down in the comments (or my tumblr page :D)
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here's another chapter!! Once again, this one was EXTREMELY hard to write, so any feedback is welcome :) I apologize if I'm a sucky writer :/
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

A week following the attack, Erik and Charles continued to monitor Peter’s physical and mental progress. The white-haired boy’s advanced healing allowed the wounds to heal much faster than the average being’s. While he still wore bandages over the injuries, Hank was pretty confident the wounds had closed up, leaving nothing but faded lines to serve as a reminder of how he basically cheated death. His fast metabolism, however, was extremely problematic.

His body digested food, as well as liquids, at an unmatched speed. Before he got shot, Peter would inhale large quantities of food, yet gained zero pounds. He would always need more food, but, thankfully, the elder mutants helped put him on a small meal plan that would satisfy his endless hunger, as well as ease his stomach. So when Viper’s serum entered his body, it was instantly digested, meaning that it had very little time to spread itself throughout Peter’s system. To add onto the situation, the boy’s already frail body was combating the toxin from the bullets. While the cure, as well as his own blood cells, struggled to reproduce and overwhelm the virus, the poison didn’t go down without a fight. His own body had become a warzone… leaving everyone, especially Erik, feeling helpless.

 _An hour after they had injected the serum, the four mutants were sharply torn from their thoughts when-_  
_“GAH!”_  
_Erik snapped his head from the sterile floor to Peter, who was unexpectedly wide awake. He instantly leaped from the chair and moved to be in his son’s line of vision. The boy was tremble, his small hand constantly clenching and unclenching until tiny lacerations, from his nails, began to appear on his palms. He teeth were gritting, nearly bound together due to the intense pain. More and more sweat began to dampen his hair, turning his usually pasty hair into a more darker, silver color. Tears slowly made their way down his cheeks._  
_“Peter?” Erik asked._  
_“Make it stop,” Peter whispered._  
_“I-”_  
_“PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!!”_

_Erik, unable to speak or think, simply looked at everyone else in the room, silently begging any of them to help the suffering boy. Hank, who was shell-shocked by Peter’s heartbreaking plea, ran over to the cabinets and frantically searched for some kind of anesthetic. Meanwhile, Raven and Charles moved closer to the bed and tried to calm the boy, both verbally and telepathically. However, none of them made a move to provide the boy comforting touches -- that was Erik’s privilege. Every scream and thrash tore an irreparable hole in Erik’s heart that would most likely never truly heal._

_“Here,” Hank announced as he ran back to the boy’s side. “This should help numb the pain.”_  
_While the genius injected the serum into Peter, Erik could sense the presence of two metal objects behind Hank. He looked around the student and saw two pairs of handcuffs. The sight briefly threw him back into another horrific memory of his time at Auschwitz._  
_“What are those?” he asked._  
_“We need to put these on his wrists before-”_  
_“He’s not an animal!” Erik snapped, startling Raven and Hank._  
_“Erik, I didn’t mean it like that. He’s thrashing and that could quickly escalate into actually escaping the bed. We need to keep him immobile so the serum will properly heal him without any further complications or disruptions. Besides, he needs to rest. Moving around will tax him out, making him far more weaker during the recovery process.”_  
_Just when Erik was about to interject, Peter’s pain-laced eyes found his own. “E-Erik?”_  
_The presence of everyone else in the room was instantly forgotten. “Yes, Peter,” he whispered back, trying to keep his voice balanced to keep the boy calm. “I’m right here.”_  
_“It hurts…”_  
_The older mutant pushed away Peter’s (now) silver hair from his forehead. “It’s okay -- everything will be fine.” To prove him wrong, Peter let out a few more whimpers and choked gasps. “You’re a very brave warrior, Peter. I know that someone like you -- a brave warrior who ran towards a speeding car and confronted a giant -- will not succumb to something this… mediocre. Be strong.”_  
_Peter shook his head. “Scared,” he breathed out, fear becoming more prominent in his tone and eyes. “W-Want… Mama…”_  
_After a few minutes of silence, an idea popped into the metal-bender’s head. “Peter, do you remember when Hank had to collect some of your blood to confirm that you had the X-Gene?” A shaky nod. “Do you remember what I offered you when you were scared of the needle?”_  
_“H-H-Hand?”_  
_Erik nodded. “Exactly.” He took Peter’s small hand in both of his, dwarfing the small limb. “If you’re in pain, just squeeze my hand,” he gently offered. “I won’t let go.”_  
_Amidst the intense pain, Peter forced himself to nod his head. “O-O-Okay.”_  
_From then on, and even beyond the moment Peter lost consciousness, Erik never let go._

That night had been the longest in Erik’s life. Staying awake for nearly forty-six hours, he remained glued beside his son’s side. He helplessly watched Peter shutter, whimper, or moan whenever a wave of agony surged through his small frame. Erik cooled off the boy’s rising temperature, cleaned any puke that spurted from his mouth, swiped away his sweaty and silver hair, and offered him words of comfort and reassurance. Throughout the entire ordeal, even after Peter had first awoken, Erik continued to grasp the boy’s small hand in between his own large ones.  

Now, as the boy recovered, everyone found themselves hovering over Peter like hawks circling their prey. Unfortunately, the boy didn’t want anyone’s company. He turned down offer after offer -- reading comic books, sparring, exploring the mansion, and more. He even turned down Erik’s offer to sit on the satellite dish, a private tradition that once held incomprehensible meaning to both mutants. In the past, Peter’s dark eyes would shine -- curiosity, energy, and happiness could be seen from a mile away. His captivating personality and contagious smile was gone.

Now, he appeared to be an empty shell of a man…or boy. His restless eyes, which once eagerly sought out to capture every moment around him, were now glued to the plain wooden floor. There seemed to be an aura of grey around him. It was a mist that wouldn't rise. A state of depression that he couldn't see himself through. The worst part was that nobody, not even Charles or Erik, could help the boy. He was lost…

Peter Maximoff stared blankly at his cereal, which had absorbed a majority of the milk, leaving it mushy and dull.  
“Are you okay, Pete?” Sean asked while taking a bite from his apple.  
The white-haired boy didn’t address his friend’s question, or even presence. Instead, he carefully dismounted the stool, wincing when the bandage around his hip pulled against the wounds, and began to slowly walk from the kitchen. He didn’t expect the ginger to intercept him by using his taller frame to block the exit. When Peter tried to move past Sean, the older mutant simply acted as a reflection, effectively preventing the boy from leaving. Defeated, the boy let his friend speak.  
“If you want, you and I could read some comic books together,” Sean offered with a small smile. “I just got this issue where Robin-”  
“I don’t want to read it.”  
Stunned, Sean knelt down in front of Peter. “What? Barry Allen doesn’t want to read comic books? Come on, I know you’ll like this issue because-”  
“No. I don’t want to read it, okay? Just leave me alone…”  
Despite the absence of heat or anger in Peter’s voice, Sean still felt like he’d been punched in the gut -- there was absolutely zero energy or curiosity in his voice, only dispiritedness. He didn’t want to push the kid any further, so he moved aside and let Peter walk away.  
“Hey kid,” he called, “if you ever want to talk… I’m always here for you.”  
Usually, whenever one of his friends threw in a last minute remark, Peter would always provide them with a smile, as his way of confirming that he heard and appreciated their comments. This time, however, he merely continued his journey without sparing his best friend a single glance or smile.

Erik and Charles, who had been walking around the mansion, stopped down the hallway when they saw Peter exiting the kitchen and passing slowly.  
“Hello Peter,” the telepath said in his traditional warm and optimistic tone. “How are you feeling?” The boy shrugged his shoulders, refusing to meet his mentor’s eyes. “Erik and I were considering going out for a jog -- did you want to come?” Peter shook his head. “Well, is there anything you would like to do after we come back?” Another shake. “Come now, isn’t there something that you want?” Repeat. “Isn’t there anything we can do to make you feel happy again?”  
After a few moments of consideration, Peter finally looked up from the floor to meet Charles’ sapphire eyes. “I…I want to stay here.”  
Erik and Charles glanced at each other, uncertain of the boy’s request. “Peter, I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Erik replied.  
“Why not?”  
“The summer is almost over, meaning that camp is too. Keeping you here any longer would draw suspicion, as well as legal authorities.” Erik could see what little hope Peter’s eyes held instantly fade away. “Plus, I’m sure everyone back in DC would be worried about you.”  
“No they won’t,” Peter shot back. “Nobody ever misses me.”  
“Not even your mother?”  
“She **has**  to worry over me -- she’s my mama.”  
Concerned, Charles knelt down in front of the boy. “Peter…what is going on?”  
“I don’t want to go home!”  
Throughout the seven weeks at the mansion, Peter rarely demanded anything -- he’s a patient boy who silenced impatience with his curiosity of the unknown. He never used the term “want”, like a spoiled little boy. Today, however, things were different. Peter’s demand wasn’t one built by entitlement or arrogance, but rather his fear of rejection.  
“Peter, many of us here are adults,” Erik added. “We’re old enough to take care of ourselves. You’re still a child who needs guidance and-”  
“Please?! I promise I won’t bother any of you!!”  
The boy was practically begging to stay, making the decision more painful Erik. “I’m sorry…but it’s just not possible.”     
“You told me that we’re like The Justice League…a family.”

It was a single statement, yet it completely embodied the struggles and privileges Peter inherited by being what he is: a mutant. Nobody, not even his own mother, would ever understand the privilege she was inherited by simply being a human, automatically creating a barrier between herself and Peter. At the mansion, there were no barriers because almost all of the occupants carried a single genetic trait that separated themselves from the rest. The boy was finally given the chance to live in an environment where he wasn’t the minority, but rather the majority. Nobody took advantage of neither his kindness nor curiosity -- they simply admired it. He didn’t stand out, yet he didn’t necessarily conform -- everyone at the mansion carried their own individual looks and abilities. The mansion’s where Peter truly felt accepted, safe, understood, and, most importantly, loved. Peter’s departure was inevitable, yet it shook almost everyone to the very core.

Erik refused to let his emotions control his logic. “This is not up for debate,” he said, taking on a more stern tone. “You’re going home next Friday. No more arguing.”  
At first, silence filled the air, allowing Peter to carefully process Erik’s words. Then, in a single moment, his entire heart shattered. It was sight nobody could miss.  
“It’s not fair!!” he unexpectedly yelled as tears began to slide down his cheek.  
“This isn’t about fairness!!! It’s about-”  
“You don’t get it!!!! NOBODY GETS IT!!!”  
Before Erik or Charles could ask clarifying questions, Peter bolted from the hallway and into his room. When the metal-bender moved to chase after his son, a firm hand on his bicep stopped him. Charles, who moments ago wore sympathy and confusion, stared at his friend with wide eyes, igniting concern.  
“Charles, what’s the matter?”  
“I dipped into Peter’s consciousness to find the cause of his behavior.”  
“And?”  
“I think you need to take a look for yourself.”  
Erik tilted his head, unsure about the idea of witnessing his own son’s personal thoughts. Then again, he was entitled to making decisions like these because it involved his son’s own well-being. Nodding his head, he let Charles place his fingers on both sides of his head before-

_Hank was sitting in his laboratory, carefully injecting a concoction into a small vial. The genius stared at his invention as if it were his newborn baby. He felt elated after finally finishing the drug that could cure his mutation. As he moved to carefully place the vial into a locked cabinet, his enhanced heard picked up the sound of light scuffling from the doorway. He turned around and found himself staring at-_

_“Peter,” he began, keeping a firm grip onto his serum, “what are you doing here?”_  
_The boy, who was dressed in his pajamas, shyly scanned Hank’s laboratory before meeting the taller man’s gaze. “I, uhhh, wanted to give this back to you.” He walked over to an empty desk and placed The Wolves of Willoughby onto the surface. “Thank you for buying it for me.”_  
_“No problem at all. I’m glad you enjoyed it!”_  
_“What’s that?” Peter asked as he pointed to the vial._  
_“It’s my creation,” Hank said, pride and disbelief hidden in his voice._  
_“What is it?”_  
_“It’s a serum I made that will moderate my X-Gene.”_  
_“What does that mean?”_  
_Hank, mindful of the six year olds presence, carefully knelt down in front of the boy and held the vial. “You remember my feet?” Peter’s eyes brightened. “Well, this serum is going to disguise them and allow them to finally look normal.”_

_The joy in the boy’s dark eyes instantly dimmed. Besides being his walking dictionary, Peter loved Hank because of his unique feet. During quieter moments in the mansion, Hank would leap onto numerous elevated objects in the facility, like the chandelier, and allow Peter to hop onto his shoulders, permitting the two of them to hang upside down in the mansion -- it made Peter feel like Spiderman. Plus, if Peter were to be completely honest, he didn’t understand why Hank wanted to hide his feet. The genius had the ability to wear shoes or socks, thus effectively hiding his “flaw” from view. Peter, on the other hand, didn’t have that option. He couldn’t look normal, even if he tried._

_“So…no more hand-feet?” Hank nodded. “Wh-Why do you want to hide them?”_  
_The older mutant tried to explain his reasoning, but his words fell flat. He couldn’t tell a six year old boy, who was filled with so much light and curiosity, about the prejudices he continues to endure. The weight mutants carried on their shoulders on a daily basis was extremely overwhelming. He didn’t want Peter to become aware of the discrimination embedded in the identities of mutants. He was too young, too sweet, too innocent. However, the moment his brain clicked with a lie, Hank could see the truth slowly consuming Peter’s eyes and heart._  
_“You…don’t want to be you.” A long pause. “Why?”_  
_“Peter-”_  
_“Why?! Why does everyone here want to hide who they are? Raven never wants to be blue, Alex never wants to wear his chestplate, Sean never wants to fly away from the mansion, and now you want to hide your feet!” Peter’s eyes began to fill with tears. “It’s not fair.”_  
_“It’s complicated,” Hank responded, his voice holding a bit more authority._  
_“It’s not fair!!!” Peter’s words startled the other mutant. “Superheroes are supposed to proud of who they are!! They don’t hide who they are!! They’re suppose to be proud of-”_  
_“They aren’t real, Peter!! Superheroes don’t exist in this world!!! Only freaks like us do!!!!”_  
_Hank instantly shut his mouth. He didn’t mean to say the things he said, let alone yell at him. Looking at Peter, the older mutant could see the boy’s heart break in half. He could see all of the events of previous weeks slowly culminate into devastation. When Hank reached for Peter, the boy instantly backed away from him._  
_“Peter, I… I didn’t mean it like that.”_  
_“So… I’m not a superhero? I’m just… a freak?”_  
_Hank’s own heart began to twist. Whenever he tried to comfort the boy, he came out short. The genius, who always had a solution for everything, was lost._  
_“Peter-”_  
_“Leave me alone…”_  
_“I’m sorry. I didn’t-”_  
_“LEAVE ME ALONE!!”_  
_Peter zipped off towards his room, leaving a guilt-ridden Hank alone with his serum._

 _In about four seconds, Peter found his way to his room. He slammed the door shut before zipping to the windowsill, where he finally allowed himself to press his face against his knees and cry his heart out. Hank’s statement shattered his entire world -- superheroes are nothing but insignificant and disposable freaks. He cried and cried, occasionally adding hateful slurs towards himself. He weeped until-_  
_“Peter, are you okay? Peter?”_  
_When the wooden door opened, revealing a concerned Erik Lehnsherr, Peter hastily composed himself -- he wiped away any stray tears, rid himself of snot, and smiled at his mentor. Eventually, after a brief exchange, Peter’s eyes landed on a crumpled brochure resting in Erik’s pocket._

With a gasp, Erik pulled out of Peter’s memory. He stood in silence, trying to process the events that had transpired.  
  
While reading his son’s memories, the metal-bender also felt the emotions that ran through Peter during the revelation. Hank’s unintentionally pessimistic comment shook Peter to his very core, breaking his already fading optimism and excitement of being a mutant. The shooting was the climax, the final act that destroyed the boy’s love of being himself.

Erik’s eyes traveled from Charles’ to a small table that rested against the corridor wall. When the duo had encountered Peter, there was a pair of scissors resting on the wooden surface. Now, after Peter’s outburst, they were missing…    
“I need to find him!”  
Before the telepath could reply, Erik bolted down the hallway towards his heartbroken son.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will have A LOT of Dadneto :) Stay tuned!
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? I'd love to read them :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> I'm not dead yet!! Sorry about the delays. I've been busy trying to get my shit together before college begins again. Also, I'd seen Suicide Squad (fun, but far from good 6.4/10) and my brain instantly concocted a story relating to Rick Flag!whump (#bless Joel Kinnaman) and BAMF/Protective!Skwad :) I'm considering writing my idea, but I'm a crappy writer who already has a lot on her plate lol Ugh... I really wish I had confidence and time management skills.
> 
> Here's another chapter!! This one was EXTREMELY difficult to write, so I apologize if it's mediocre. I tried to capture the dadneto moments, but I may have come out flat :/ Thank you SOO much your the patience and support! I couldn't have asked for better fans :)
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

When Erik finally approached Peter’s door, he didn’t waste a single second before frantically banging on the wooden surface.  
“Peter, open the door!!” Muffled sobs from the other side was his response. "Peter?!”  
With an impatient growl, he threw the door open and nearly sprinted into the room. However, when his blue eyes saw his son raise the missing pair of scissors towards his unique and beautiful white hair, time seemingly stopped.  
“Peter, no!!!”

Using his powers, Erik levitated the scissors away from Peter’s hair, away from the heartbroken boy. To his (somewhat) surprise, Peter instantly tried to grab onto the item and to pull it back towards him.   
“Give it back!!”  
Erik’s firm hold on the scissors didn’t budge. He raised the scissors until they were high above Peter’s head. The younger mutant instantly zipped up to his bed, leaped off of it, and hung onto the scissors like a monkey on a branch. More concerned, Erik kept his hold on the item as he ran towards the distraught boy. He wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist and forcefully pulled him away from the scissors. Peter kicked and squirmed, frantically trying to grab ahold of the metal object. Having enough, Erik sent the scissors out of the window, far away from Peter.   
“Let go of me!!!”  
“Peter, enough!!!!” Erik knelt on the ground and firmly held Peter by his shoulders. “What on earth were you thinking?!”  
“It’s not fair!! They get to hide who they are!!” As Peter yelled, he tried his damndest to free himself from Erik’s hold. “They get to be normal!!! I can’t!!!!”  
“Peter, appearances do not-”  
His sentence was cut off when Peter forcefully shoved his father away from him.

Erik had always dreamed of the moment his child would defy him -- in his mind, rebellion signaled independence and authority. However, it wasn’t impatience or anger that influenced Peter to rebel: it was absolute devastation. When Erik’s grip finally fell, the boy instantly backed away from his mentor. The elder mutant could see regret, and even shock, directed towards his unexpected ability written clearly in his dark eyes. Slowly, as the realization hit him, Peter began to calm down. However, the tears and broken words didn’t end. 

Like a kicked puppy who believed they’d done something wrong, the boy directed his gaze towards the floor. The small arms that had rebelled against Erik moments ago now rested stiffly against his sides. Meanwhile, Erik himself didn’t scold the boy’s act of defiance. Instead, he merely listened.

“You don’t look like me,” the boy quietly began, absolute shame and despair laced in his voice. “I look weird, and people don’t like weird.” A long pause. “M-My mama and I visit homes. When we do, I-I see weapons a-all over the place. Some people have g-guns on their walls next to dead animal parts, like th-that man in the cabin. Th-They hunt innocent animals f-for fun.” Peter swallowed a lump in his throat. “Th-They look at m-me like I’m an animal too. What if they hurt me because I’m different? What if they shoot me, like that lady did, because I’m a mutant? Wh-What if they hurt my family i-in order to h-hurt me?!”

Erik Lehnsherr endured unspeakable torture in the hands of homo sapiens -- the pain he suffered through left numerous scars, both physical and emotional, that debatably made him stronger. His experience in the world built him into the man today: a seemingly invulnerable, rouge weapon capable of global destruction. However, Peter’s words penetrated the shield, the once indestructible barriers, he’d built all of these years -- they felt worse than being carved open by faceless doctors. Watching an innocent boy, his own son, silently enduring loneliness and rejection tore him to shreds.

As Shaw perfectly unveiled, emotional pain is far worse than physical pain. While one could be cured with time and support from loved ones, the other was more silent and permanent. Nobody, no matter how sympathetic or kind, can fully help one battling with their own personal struggles, for emotional pain is built by personal experiences that no one else can live through. The internal battles, and its platform built by emotional pain, leaves outsiders helpless. Peter’s fear of rejection, loneliness, and even death was something Erik couldn’t fully assuage -- sure, he himself shared similar histories and fears, but that still didn’t mean that he fully understood the real pain Peter was feeling. Erik Lehnsherr -- Holocaust survivor, Nazi hunter, manipulator of magnetic fields -- was, once again, helpless.

So, what does one do in times like these? Do they attempt to comfort the distressed with false promises and empty encouragement?; Do they offer support?; Do they simply remain silent, allowing the grieving to gather their thoughts without the intrusion of others? Erik mentally explored every instance where someone he cared for was in similar states of despair -- as stated earlier, no action he chose would fully heal Peter. In the end, he went with the option his mother had always done whenever he, as a little boy, was distressed.

Erik sat on the floor, with his legs crossed. He then gently guided the boy onto his lap, similar to how Marya had done so the morning he’d left for camp. Much to his surprise, Peter almost collapsed onto his mentor’s legs. He slumped against Erik's chest, allowing lingering tears to become absorbed into Erik’s shirt. The comfort Erik’s presence provided only made Peter cry harder, for he knew that it would be the last time he’d receive such comfort. Meanwhile, Erik’s own larger arms tightly wrapped themselves around Peter’s small frame, squeezing out any feelings of self-doubt or negativity. When the boy began to cry harder, the metal-bender rocked from side to side, shushing any broken sobs. He even gently cupped the back of the white hair and guided Peter’s face to press against his chest.

For a long time, the duo sat in silence, battling their own fears and regrets. Erik continued to hold his son while creating a mental list of all of the homo sapiens he, in the possibly not too distant future, would make pay for tormenting such a young and innocent boy. Eventually, however, Peter said something that was muffled by Erik’s chest.

“What was that?” Erik asked as he looked down.  
Peter unburied his face from his mentor’s chest and met his gaze. “Do-Do you think my papa left me because of my hair?” Erik nearly did a double take. “Did he leave me because he didn’t want a freak for a kid?”  
The metal-bender, who had previously remained poised and balanced during Peter’s meltdown, finally felt tears of his own sting his blue eyes and cloud his vision. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing… actually, he could. That still didn’t make it feel right. Peter blamed himself for his father’s departure and absence. That hurt Erik in ways he’d never recover from again.

With a heavy sigh, Erik gently swiped away from loose hair that threatened to hide Peter’s searching gaze. “Did you know that the X-Gene is transferred from the male to his offspring?”  
Peter tilted his head. “Wh-What?”  
“Does your mother possess superhuman abilities?” Peter shook his head. “You see? Even if she were a mutant, her powers would’ve become more dominating by now.” Erik could see the revelation slowly dawn on the young boy, prompting him to smile. “Peter, your father was a mutant too.”  
At first, there was a deafening silence that replaced what were once sobs and shushes. Erik could see Peter attempting to process what had just been shared. There was even a hint of hopefulness in the dark irises -- the boy wanted that possibility to be reality.  
“If we’re both mutants, then why did he leave me?”  
“There are plenty of reasons.” Erik lowered his head so that his face was inches from Peter’s own. “As recent events have blatantly shown, the life of a mutant is far from easy. Our kind, on a daily routine, face unjust oppression and discrimination because we carry a genetic trait that makes us more superior. People are afraid of change, and that fear quickly transitions to anger and ignorance. Homo sapiens do not want to feel inferior, so they do everything in their limited power to feel invulnerable. I want to assume that your father left you because he feared for your safety.”  
For a brief second, acceptance and hope appeared in Peter’s eyes. The boy desperately wanted to believe that his father’s abandonment was out of love instead of rejection. However, as his mind began to reflect on recent events, he simply couldn’t accept Erik’s theory.  
“Those kids on the bus wanted me to leave, my own papa didn’t want me, and…and now you all want me to leave.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Why does everyone leave me?” he whispered to himself as tears, once again, began to build in his eyes. “Why doesn’t anyone want to be with me?”  
“Oh Peter…”

Erik enveloped his son in a protective and warm embrace, pressing his own face into Peter’s soft hair. Despite his convincing and truthful explanation, Erik still understood the boy’s struggle of accepting the theory. On numerous occasions, Erik himself had been abandoned by those he loved. However, their departure was a result of the cruelness of homo sapiens; he had been forcibly stripped of everyone he held dear. Peter’s case was far different -- those who abandoned him consciously did so. Whether out of fear or ignorance -- or in Erik’s case, love -- Peter had been consistently let down by those he believed were his true family and friends. Peter’s pain wasn’t childish or temporary; it was logical.

He didn’t know how long he’d sat on the carpet, holding his son as he continued to cry his heart out. It must have been for quite a while, for when he looked back out the window, the sky had become more darker. When he looked down, he could see Peter slumped against his chest. He was still awake, but sleep was quickly beginning to consume the boy. Relieved that Peter’s small arms were still wrapped around his own neck, Erik moved to stand up. When he reached his full height, he could feel Peter’s legs wrap themselves around his waist. Erik’s own arms tightened around Peter’s back, carefully pinning the small frame against his taller body as he carried the boy to bed. Erik finally made it to the mattress and carefully laid his son onto the soft surface. However, when he moved to leave the room in order give Peter time to himself, he felt a small hand grab ahold of his own larger hand.  
“Can you stay?”

It was a simply request that came out in a whisper, yet it had the power to send even the most vicious man onto his knees. Erik, who never swayed at the sight of blood or pleas for mercy, found himself unable to resist the boy’s request. He took off his shoes and sweater before slowly making his way back to Peter’s bedside. With slight hesitancy, he moved to lay underneath the thick duffle until he laid right beside his son, who had also resided to resting horizontally on the bed. Lying face to face, Peter quickly reached behind him to grab his purple stuffed bunny. With the toy secured in his arms, he pulled the covers over his frame before scooting closer and closer towards Erik until he and his bunny were curled against Erik’s chest. The older mutant smiled before wrapping a protective arm around the boy’s small frame, pressing him even closer to his own body.

For a few minutes, the pair laid in silence, letting the sunset slowly fade away until moonlight bathed the entire room. Their contrasting eyes stared intently at the other’s, exchanging unspoken words of gratitude and comfort.  
“Peter,” Erik whispered, “I want you to listen very carefully at what I’m about to tell you.” The boy’s own brown eyes never left Erik’s own as he nodded. “Don’t ever compromise who you are in order to please a certain group. The only voice you should adhere to is your own.” When Peter shook his head, Erik extended his hand to gently stroke the white hair that shined in the moonlight. “There are going to be people who will refuse to accept your abilities that put you ahead of the average homo sapien. But as the superior, you have the ability to bridge the gap between mutants and humans. Maybe then their fears will decline.”  
“Why should I be nice to people who aren’t nice to me?”  
“Because…” Erik paused, bracing himself for his next, almost hypocritical statement. “Because we’re the better men.  
Mankind expects the unfamiliar to lash out in anger, thus feeding into their assumptions and accusations. However, by interacting with our oppressors through the means of kindness, we are able to challenge their stereotypes while also creating a strong alliance.”  
“What if they still don’t like me? What if I’m kind to them, but they still want to hurt me?”  
“Then they aren’t worth any of your time. It doesn’t hurt to try and reach out to our oppressors. But, in the end, it’s more important to invest your energy into your own well-being, as well as the ones who truly value you.”

Despite the darkness, Erik could still see questions and fears lingering in the boy’s dark irises. With a heavy sigh, he pulled the boy closer to his chest and continued to stroke the white hair in a soothing and rhythmic manner. In order to coax Peter into sleeping, he began to lightly hum a lullaby that he’d learned from his parents, who learned it from their parents, and so on and so forth. As he continued to croon, brief flashes of recognition surfaced onto Peter’s eyes. However, exhaustion defeated inquisition. Peter’s eyes grew heavier and heavier, each blink lasting longer than the previous. Eventually, the lullaby, as well as the evenly paced beating of Erik’s heart, allowed Peter to succumb to sleep.

Erik, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. Not after everything that had just transpired. So, rather than coaxing himself to sleep, he choose to remain awake, cradle his son, and muse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be somewhat of an interlude, heavily focusing on Erik's thoughts about his son, his values, and his mission. Plus, that Dick Grayson comic will be revisited :D
> 
> We're almost done with the First Class portion of this story :) After a chapter or two, we'll see a teenage Peter from DOFP, so stay tuned!!
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Don't be shy :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> WHEW!! I apologize to ANYONE who may have thought that I abandoned this story. This was an EXTREMELY difficult chapter to write, and I didn't want to rush it :/ Also, college has interfered with my writing time. I really hope this part of the story turned out okay!
> 
> Thank you all for the endless support and patience :D I couldn't ask for greater fans/audience members like yourselves!!!
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

Around two in the morning, Erik’s bladder had reached full capacity. The metal-bender carefully removed himself away from Peter, who continued to sleep peacefully, and tiptoed to the bathroom on the other side of the room. When business was taken care of, Erik quietly walked back to bed. Instead of returning to his original position, he opted sit on the mattress with his back resting against the headboard. For a few minutes, Erik simply stared down at the sleeping boy, taking in his state of serenity and peace. Eventually, Peter shifted in his sleep and unconsciously snuggled closer to the older mutant. Soon enough, his head was resting on top of Erik’s lap, while his arms loosely looped themselves around the metal-bender’s hips. Erik smiled down at the boy before wrapping one of his arms around Peter’s shoulders in a protective and gentle manner. He used his free hand to stroke the boy’s white hair in a soothing and rhythmic manner.

It wasn’t fair. In the span of nearly seven weeks, Peter endured hell that, undoubtedly, would permanently affect him until the day he died. At the age of six, his had nearly gotten killed twice, had his dreams of being a superhero completely shattered, and questioned his own worth due to the abandonment of those he considered friends and family. It wasn’t fair that someone like Peter -- so innocent, so kind, and so young --  suffered so tremendously. Throughout his times as a Nazi hunter, Erik had encountered numerous men who would’ve broke underneath so much pressure and devastation. Hell, the metal-bender himself even considered giving up numerous times -- there’s only so much pain a man could take. Peter was only six and, despite hit after hit, he somehow managed to wake up every morning with a bright smile, endless curiosity, and inspiring selflessness. His son was stronger than any fully developed man could ever be. It was such an admirable trait that was extremely rare…and Erik couldn’t have been more proud of his son. His (almost) unwavering optimism reminded him of Robin -- Boy Wonder, Batman’s sidekick, and Bruce Wayne’s adopted son.

Wanting to explore that connection further, Erik decided to re-read the Batman comic Peter had given him a week earlier, back when his faith in superheroes still meant something to him. Without jostling the sleeping boy, Erik reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the faded comic from the wooden surface. He flipped through the pages, re-visited Robin’s origin story, and quickly realized that he was jealous -- yes, Erik Lehnsherr envied a comic book character -- of Bruce Wayne.  
Like the billionaire playboy, Erik deeply desired to train Peter in the art of combat. Both men wanted to guide, as well as protect, the boys through the cruel and unjust world. They believed that avenging those who were wrongfully killed, and those who continued to suffer at the hands of criminals and government systems, was beneficial for both their wards and themselves. However, there was a massive difference between a human billionaire and a mutant refugee: their privileges.  
Bruce undoubtedly created enemies, who would’ve loved to harm those he held dear to him, during his quest for justice. However, it was his wealth, discreteness, and overall power that shielded him, as well as Dick Grayson, from any harm. Erik, on the other hand, hadn’t been so subtle with his executions leading him to Shaw, his Tony Zucco. He didn’t have wealth or much authority over anyone (at least in comparison to a telepath or Shaw). In the end, Bruce lived in the proper environment for him to adopt and raise Dick so he’d become a superhero. Erik couldn’t even adopt Peter, even if he tried his damndest. He’d created too many enemies who possess abilities that could easily wipe out him, as well as everyone he loved, in less than a second. Besides, even if Shaw and his allies didn’t exist, Peter’s curiosity would also be considered a threat to a stable relationship. His curiosity would lead him to uncover the truth about their relationship and that could permanently destroy their bond. Erik just couldn’t risk Peter’s life and innocence…  

To add insult to injury, being a mutant automatically put him and Peter at a disadvantage. Because of their genes -- something completely out of their control -- they instantly became targets, plain and simple. Unless they compromised their identities, they would spend the rest of their lives trying to survive in a world that constantly desired to destroy them. It hurt Erik knowing that peoples' fates were determined not by their right or wrong doings, not by what they gave and took from the world, not by their qualifications and inabilities, and especially not by their kindness and arrogance. No…what determined their fate was simply how they looked, and the powers they inherited. Mutants didn’t come into the world asking to become mutants; it was forced upon them by Nature or God. To be punished for something out of their control, and even for being prideful of what was given to them, wasn’t fair.

Charles would never understand Erik’s desire to harm those who have oppressed him. The metal-bender’s motives and actions were embedded in the consistent pain he’s endured simply because of his identity. As the telepath saw, Erik had lost numerous peoples he’s love -- his mother, his father, his sister, etc. He had been stripped of his values in the most unprecedented and appalling ways. The moment he saw Peter -- his son, his light, his last remaining family member -- Erik made a vow to make sure Peter would never have to endure the pain he himself had endured. Family changes everything -- values, instincts, responsibilities, and love. Protecting Peter became his top priority that he would go through any lengths to fulfill. Meanwhile, Charles neither had a son nor experienced the torture at the hands of humanity. If he had even a taste of what Erik had endured, as well as being weighted with responsibilities of a father, then he would sympathize with Erik’s desire to extract vengeance against those who have harmed him and his family. Erik’s motives weren’t based on hedonism, arrogance, and entitlement; he did what he did to protect those he loved.

That all said, Charles was also trying to protect Peter from the world, but through a different angle. His privileged, more sheltered life gave him a more optimistic view of the world and its inhabitants. While Erik would often say that his friend’s ideologies were too idealistic and naive, he still remained grateful that he balanced out his own rage. Peter needed to experience that harmonious relationship between peace and rage. The two elder mutants witnessed just how deep Peter’s love for things and people went, while at the same time observing just how frustrated and vulnerable he could get when encountering the wrong people. They both saw Peter struggle with finding his place in the world. As the father, Erik felt obligated to teach his son how to protect himself and his values from enemies who threatened to harm or exploit him. Charles, on the other hand, wanted Peter to understand that strength wasn’t limited to physical capabilities and intimidation. He believed that having and promoting kindness, in such a cruel and unjust world, was one of the greatest strengths a being could have. Erik approached the world in a more cautious manner, unable to fully trust those who claim themselves to be allies. Charles saw everyone as potential friends who could contribute to the greater cause. Surprisingly, both men’s conflicting ideologies somehow managed to perfectly come together under the right cause: Peter.

With a heavy sigh, Erik placed the comic book back onto the nightstand before finally allowing himself to close his eyes. At first, his restless mind prevented him from fully succumbing to sleep. However, the small but significant warmth of Peter’s body pressed against him coaxed Erik into resting.  
He'd deal with his fears tomorrow. Right now, Peter was here with him, alive and healthy. In the end, that's all that mattered to Erik.

“No… Please no…”  
Peter awoke to the sound of distressed mumbles coming from a source above him. Slowly blinking away the sleep and fog, he finally registered that he had fallen asleep beside Erik -- or rather, his upper half was resting on top of Erik’s lap. He tried to remember the events that led to this position and was hit with memories of his meltdown. He remembered everything -- Erik and Charles telling him he couldn’t stay at the mansion, nearly cutting off his white hair, pushing Erik, crying on Erik’s shoulder, lying down next to Erik and talking about the importance of individuality, and listening to Erik hum a familiar lullaby. While the boy nearly drowned himself in self-pity and heartbreak, Erik’s own nightmare forced him to remain present.

Whenever he was upset, his mama would always give him a hug, for she claimed that she was, “squeezing all of the sadness out of him.” Seeing Erik, a man he considered his hero, in such pain made Peter sad and helpless. So, without a second thought, he repositioned himself so that he’d be resting closer to Erik and wrapped his small arms around Erik’s waist. He squeezed the metal-bender for an undocumented amount of time, refusing to let his hold falter until he was sure Erik’s nightmare was over. Then, surprisingly, Erik stilled at his touch. The creases in his forehead smoothed out, his mumbled pleas and cries faded away, and the tension in his body weakened significantly. Peter could feel Erik’s arms, which were wrapped around his small frame, tightened, almost as if he was returning the hug. Smiling, Peter nuzzled his face against Erik’s stomach and let out a sigh of content.  
“Thank you,” he whispered.  
Feeling safe and comforted by the warmth of Erik’s body, Peter let himself drift back into the dream world.

That’s how Charles and Raven found the pair the next morning; father and son snuggled against each other, hugging out their fears and pain.  
  
The shifter saw the pair as a jigsaw puzzle: two pieces perfectly fitting against each other, almost as if it were meant to be.  
And Charles? The telepath saw Erik’s future and fate in a state of serenity. He saw Peter’s source of hope and empowerment silently ensure his loyalty and love to him. Charles saw his hope for Erik increase exponentially.    
Ultimately, he saw a father and his son finally come together after so many years apart. At that moment, everyone in that room -- both the sleepers and the observers -- found their places of serenity. They were content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the final X-Men: First Class chapter!! Chapters 21-24(or 25) will take place during DOFP :D We'll finally see teenage Peter :)
> 
> Looking back, I realized that I may need to cut out certain ideas simply due to the pace and organization. I have the ideas written on a separate document, so maybe I'll post them as bonus chapters. They're nothing big -- one was going to feature more bonding between Peter and Sean/Alex/Raven/Hank, while the other was going to feature Erik's confrontation with Shaw in the submarine.
> 
> Once again, thank you SOO much for your patience and support!!! I'm very grateful for the (constructive) comments, kudos, and hits :) It means the world to me, and I continues to inspire me to produce (debatably) quality writing :D
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Don't be shy :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	20. Chapter 20 (Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> I'm SOOOO sorry for the late update! I've been unbelievably busy with academics that have consumed days that I would usually spend writing. Also, I'm planning on conducting an independent project next semester, so planning that has also consumed a lot of time.
> 
> I can't thank everyone enough for their patience and support!! In order to make up for my awful updating skills, I'm planning on posting two more chapters -- one of them being the first chapter in the DOFP section of the story-- this weekend, so stay tuned :)
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

This was it. Today was the day Peter Maximoff departed from the Xavier Mansion.

On the day of said departure, Peter was sitting in his room, staring outside his window that provided him a view of the satellite dish -- the object that had once stood as an intimidating mountain looming over his small figure, and now as a place of serenity and incomparable beauty. Out of every location within and around the mansion -- the endless hallways, the little garden behind the facility, the secret rooms deep within the facility -- Peter was going to miss the satellite dish the most. In terms of who he’d miss the most, that was a different story. Each occupant of the mansion held their own strengths that, despite their similar genetic trait, separated each other.

Raven was a warrior; Peter would watch her single-handedly take down sparring partners with grace and ease, it was almost supernatural. She was shameless of her strength and refused to dumb herself down to please the other men she sparred with. Peter loved her powers and shameless personality; he practically felt invulnerable whenever he was around the shifter.

Alex (arguably) taught him how to be a man -- or, in other words, masculine. He educated Peter on how to pick up girls, how to properly box, how to choose his own battles, and how to keep a level-head if things got too intense. Peter appreciated Alex’s advice, even if some components didn’t necessarily fit his style. He was grateful to have a male figure who actually taught him how to effectively protect his family.

Whenever he had a question that wasn’t necessarily based off of morality or strength, but rather science and knowledge, he would always run to Hank. The genius was extremely patient and answered each question in a simplified yet dignified manner that neither confused nor humiliated the boy. Peter was grateful to have a friend who, despite crushing his dreams of ever becoming a superhero, allowed him to freely ask questions and not feel shameful about his curiosity.

Moria reminded Peter of his aunt, a caring and loving woman who strength lied in her intelligence and observations. The boy found himself constantly drawn to Moria’s stories about her time as a CIA agent. Similar to his admiration towards Raven, Peter respected Moria’s refusal to devalue and minimize her intelligence and acquired skills. Her unfiltered stories and uncompromised intelligence held a special place in Peter’s heart.

To Peter, Sean was like a big brother. They would exchange playful banter, train and eat together, and often converse about a wide range of topics -- from comic books to personal ones. Next to Erik, Sean was someone Peter trusted with almost all of his being.  

A knock on his door interrupted Peter’s musing, causing him to tear his gaze away from the towering dish and onto the wooden door.  
“Peter?” It was Charles. “May I come in?”  
“Okay,” the boy absently responded, for his mind was still drawn to the looming object he had considered his secret sanctuary.  
When the door opened, the telepath let out a small smile and walked towards the boy. As he did so, his piercing blue eyes scanned the boy’s stuffed backpack that rested in the center of his now spotless room. When the older mutant approached Peter, he moved to sit beside the younger mutant and followed his gaze towards the satellite dish.  
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The boy numbly nodded. “Well, I came here to inform you that your mother is in the hospital, and-”  
Peter snapped back into awareness so quickly that it could’ve given him whiplash. Charles could immediately feel radiating from the boy.  
“M-My mama is hurt?!”  
“Peter, she’s not-”  
“D-Did that woman come back for her?!”  
“What woman?”  
“Th-Th-The one who shot me!! Did she hurt her to hurt me again?!” As these frantic questions spewed out of the boy’s mouth, breathing became a challenge. “Wh-What if she killed her?!”  
“Peter, it’s okay. Calm your mind,” Charles calmly responded both verbally and telepathically.  
Whether it be due to the telepath’s powers or because the boy trusted his mentor, Peter found himself obeying Charles’ commands. He closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten -- it was a skill Erik had taught him after he’d experienced another nightmare. When his breaths were still slightly labored, he counted to twenty and focused on his own voice in the present, rather than his deafening anxiety. Soon enough, the boy was calm enough for Charles to finish his statement.  
“The reason your mother is in the hospital is because she gave birth!”  
Slowly, as the answered was processed, all of his distress morphed into absolute joy. Peter released a smile so bright that it could’ve outshined the sun. It was a sight Charles missed dearly.  
“M-My mama had a baby?” Charles nodded. “I-I’m a big brother?”  
“That is correct,” the telepath warmly replied.  
“H-How did you know that?”  
“I used a machine called Cerebro that allows me to access anyone’s consciousness. Erik and I were trying to locate your mother so we’d know where to drop you off and, well, that’s when I discovered the remarkable news.”  
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”  
Charles smiled. “It’s a girl.”

At that moment, the telepath could hear the boy mentally conjuring up a single name for the newborn child. There was no doubt that the unique and advanced name came from Erik. Charles made no move to criticize or inquire Peter’s automatic decision, for he knew that the name held significant meaning to both him and the metal-bender. Besides…the telepath thought it was a beautiful name. 

“You see? Perhaps going home isn’t such a bad idea after all.” After a few moments of silence, Charles could detect another, more sobering emotion hitting the boy. “Is there something wrong, Peter? I thought you’d be thrilled at the news.”   
“I am,” Peter countered. “It’s just…What if I can’t protect her? People don’t like mutants and want to hurt them and those they care about. Isn’t that what happened to Erik?”  
“Unfortunately, that was the case.”  
Peter looked down at his shoes and sighed. “I’m not strong enough to keep her safe…”  
Concerned, Charles repositioned himself so that he was kneeling on the ground in front of Peter. He placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder and guided him so they’d be facing each other.   
“Peter, that is far from the truth. In all my years so far, I’ve never met a boy so courageous and resilient like yourself.”   
“But I’m not strong…Not like Erik. ”   
“Athleticism is not always synonymous with strength,” Charles gently countered. “Being empathetic and sympathetic to everyone around you, even those you see as enemies, is a very courageous act that many fail to achieve.”   
“What if someone hurts my family? Do I have to be nice to them then?”  
“Not necessarily…but it’ll be the right thing to do. By expressing compassion and silent resilience towards those who have hurt you or your loved ones, you are defying stereotypes and expectations while simultaneously creating a bridge between yourself and those who hurt you. When that relationship is created, then long lasting peace can be achieved.”  
Peter was astounded by the differences between Charles’ and Erik’s advice. “What if they keep hurting me? Can’t I…what’s the word?” A long pause. “Defend! Can’t I defend my family then?”

Charles as genuinely astonished by the boy’s endless stream of questions. Peter wasn’t asking these questions to annoy or challenge the telepath. The boy wanted to combine both his and Erik’s ideologies about strength. Whether it be out of respect for the older mutants or simply for his own development, Peter didn’t want to compromise the lessons and advice he’d learned from his father and his mentor. Charles was captivated by the boy’s attempts at reasons and creating a hybrid of ideologies. At the age of six, the white-haired mutant was far more compassionate and open-minded than most adult men Charles knew.

“Yes you can,” Charles replied. “While I personally avoid conflict, I can see why others may resort to intimidation and defense.”  
“You don’t like fighting with others?” Charles nodded his head. “Well, what if someone hurt Raven? Or Erik? Would you fight people then?”  
“I…” The telepath trailed off, knowing (and fearing) fully well the lengths he’d go to protect Raven -- it wasn’t a side of himself he intended to visit anytime soon. “If they got hurt on my watch, then I’d deal with the wrongdoer the way I see fits. It would depend on the circumstances, obviously, or the severity of their crime.” Realizing he was getting off track, Charles cleared his throat. “Look Peter, what I’m trying to say is that strength is fluid. There are numerous qualities, both external and internal, that help strengthen an individual. You are already a brave, curious, good-natured, resilient, humble, and sympathetic being who possess gifts that mankind dream of obtaining. You have the best of both worlds, and that will be more than enough to keep your newborn sister safe and on the right path.”  
“Really?” Peter asked hopefully.  
“Without a doubt.”   
Peter let loose a humble smile before leaping off of the windowsill to hug his mentor. At first, the telepath was surprised at the unexpected gesture and nearly fell backwards due to the new weight. However, once his brain registered Peter’s hug, he wrapped his own arms around the small frame and pulled the boy even closer to his own body. The pair remained in their positions for a long time, each one of them reflecting on their adventures and the lessons that came with them.  
“I’m going to miss you, Professor,” Peter mumbled in Charles’ sweater.  
“I’m going to miss you too, Peter.”  
After a minute or two, the boy slowly peeled himself from his mentor, already missing the warmth and comfort radiating from Charles. With a heavy sigh, the telepath stood up and extended his hand for Peter to take.  
“Are you ready?”  
Peter glanced back at the satellite dish one last time and waved his hand. “Goodbye dish.”  
Finally, he took a deep breath and let his mentor guide him out of his room.

Everyone -- Raven, Alex, Sean, Hank, Moria, and Erik -- were waiting at the front entrance of the mansion. Despite the inevitable departure, they all wore expressions of happiness and curiosity, much to Peter’s confusion.  
“Pete,” Sean began, “we heard about the baby! Congrats, little man!!”  
The youngest mutant found himself blushing with embarrassment and gratitude, causing him to quickly shuffle towards Erik, who welcomed the boy’s presence.   
“What are you gonna name it?” Alex asked. “If it’s a boy, you should name it Dick, after that character in the comic you’re always reading.”  
Raven rolled her eyes. “The kid's gonna be ridiculed his whole life.” She looked down at Peter and warmed up. “Seriously though, have you thought of a name?”  
Peter looked up at Erik, who winked back at him. The shifter looked at her mentor to the child, then back again.   
“Oh my God,” she began, “please don’t tell me you named a kid after him!” she said as she pointed at Erik.  
“Charming,” the metal-bender responded flatly. “It’s time to hit the road, Peter.”

Peter’s bright mood instantly dimmed. He slowly looked back at all of his friends, who smiled down at him. He walked away towards his father and stood in front of the others. For a few moments, he simply stared in silence as he took in everyone’s faces, knowing that he may never see them again. It still hurt that they still hid their mutations, but he wasn’t completely bothered by it; if this Summer has taught him anything, it’s that being a mutant was dangerous, and that people hide their identities not because they want to, but because they have to.

“It was really nice meeting you all,” he said with a sad smile. “I won’t forget any of you…even if you all forget about me.”  
For a moment, everyone was silent and exchanged glances. Then, Sean moved to kneel in front of Peter and extended his hand. “It’s impossible to forget someone like you, kid. We’ll always be here for you.”  
“Really?”  
“Always, little bro.”  
Peter’s eyes widened at the name. He was so moved by the statement that he couldn’t conjure up the appropriate (or any, for that matter) response. So instead, he and Sean did their “secret” handshake one last time. Alex moved closer to the pair and patted the boy’s back.  
“Gonna miss my sparring partner. When we see each other again, we’ll have a real go at a fight.”

Raven and Hank glanced at each other before unveiling their mutant forms. While Raven’s pale body quickly turned royal blue, Hank kicked off his shoes and freed his hand-feet from their sock prison. When they approached Peter, the boy instantly released an enormous smile. The shifter and the genius wrapped their arms around the boy’s shoulders and pulled him into a side hug, trapping his small frame in between their bodies. Moria, the only human in the group, knelt down and placed a small kiss on the boy’s white-hair, much to Erik’s disapproval. Peter melted into everyone’s hold and released a bright smile of contentment.  
“We’re the Justice League,” Sean said. “We’re family -- nobody gets left behind or forgotten.”

Peter shakily nodded, trying to bite back the sting of tears, before slowly peeling himself away from the group. He slowly trudged back towards Erik, who wrapped his own arm around the boy’s shoulders.  
“Be safe and keep in touch, Peter,” Charles said.  
With a nod of confirmation to Erik, the metal-bender gently guided the boy out of the mansion and towards their car, which was parked right in front of the main courtyard. When Peter was situated on the passenger's seat, he looked out the mirror and saw all of his friends -- no, his mutant family -- staring at him with smiles and even tears. They waved to him as the car started and drove off into the morning sunrise.

Peter waved back at his family and the Xavier mansion, the place he considered his true home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who may be confused, I decided to divide the final First Class portion of the story into two chapters.  
> 1.) I didn't want to ignore the other characters and their relationships with Peter, notably Charles'. So, I decided to dedicate an entire chapter to the others. Do not worry, they ALL will be appearing later in the story :)  
> 2.) I want to write an entire chapter focusing on Peter and Erik. The final final portion of the First Class section will be completely devoted to exploring the duo's relationship  
> 3.) When I tried combining the two chapters into a single one, I realized that it was getting way too lengthy. Dividing the two chapters is (hopefully) easier to read and digest.
> 
> The conclusion for the First Class portion of this story, as well as the first chapter for the DOFP portion, should be up by Saturday or Sunday :) Once again, thank you for your patience and overwhelming support :D
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? I'd love to hear them :)
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	21. Chapter 20 (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> I'm SO sorry for the delay! During this past month, I've been struggling with trying to put together a field study in New York City. That process -- filling out paperwork, planning my semester, and going to endless meetings, -- along with my current semester work, took up a majority of November. I also experienced a personal loss recently, which took a massive toll on me (I'm fine, FYI, but it was quite a shock). Thank you all for your overwhelming support and admirable patience! I'm BEYOND grateful to have supporters like yourselves!
> 
> This is the final chapter of the X-Men: First Class portion of the story! Next chapter -- which I will hopefully release soon -- will begin the Days of Future Past section of the story. 
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope enjoy!!!

The car ride from the mansion to the hospital was silent. Occasionally, Peter and Erik would exchange glances and light smiles, but it was only to add substance to an otherwise empty environment. The duo were too lost in their thoughts and emotions, both reminiscent of their time together and fearful of what the future would hold.

Out of everyone he had met at the mansion, Peter was going to miss Erik the most.  
Before meeting the older mutant, Peter had encountered numerous men who tried to ensure their masculinity by repressing any emotion that would make them appear weak or uncertain. These men wanted to prove that they were leaders, soldiers, or providers immune to sentiment.

Erik was someone who perfectly balanced courage and trepidation; confidence and skepticism; idealism and realism; instinct and heart; immunity and vulnerability. Until he met Erik, Peter didn’t think such contrasting traits could create a harmonious relationship -- ultimately, one trait always ended up dominating the other. The metal-bender, as well as Charles Xavier, proved that conflicting individuals, ideologies, and emotions didn’t need to compromise or combat each other because, in the long term, they ended up benefiting from one another.

There was another significant reason why Peter admired Erik.   
Previously, whenever he expressed any resentment towards towards those who bullied him, the automatic response was, “Get over it, kid.” That, along with, “It’s no big deal! Why must you always make nothing into something?” were the typical responses others would give him. Even his own mother would unintentionally dismiss the pain and anguish her own son felt on a daily basis. Those reactions undoubtedly forced Peter to question his own emotional strength; they made the boy feel weak and guilty, as if his pain wasn’t anything but a waste of everyone else’s time.

Erik didn’t brush aside Peter’s emotions. He looked past the boy’s age and saw the raw, crippling pain the boy constantly endured. He sympathized, patiently listened to whatever feelings Peter needed to get off of his chest, and offered the best advice he could. That in itself was rare for Peter. He had never met anyone who took his questions and concerns seriously, thus preventing him from receiving the proper treatment they deserved. Erik didn’t see Peter as a boy whining about temporary problems; he saw Peter as a living being struggling with emotions others often felt yet refused to acknowledge.

The metal-bender’s own pain heavily mirrored his son’s; both men were rejected and tormented by society all because they possessed unique gifts that put them above the average being. The reactions they both felt during their lowest points weren’t, as others had called them, “weak,” “bothersome,” or, “random.” Erik helped Peter discover that his raw emotions weren’t what others claimed they were. Erik taught him that what he felt was real and, ultimately, justified. In fact, according to Erik, Peter’s emotional reactions didn’t even need to be justified!

Nobody had the right to judge or criticize Peter’s feelings, for nobody understood the source and context his emotions spawned from. His anger wasn’t just another fit; it was built by years and years of bullies tormenting him for his unique yet uncontrollable looks. His disappointment evolved from watching those he considered allies treat those who were different, as well as those he considered important in his life, with repulsive cruelty and ignorance. The foundation of his fear of rejection and abandonment was created when his father abandoned him without a second thought. Unless anyone lived in his shoes, nobody had the right to criticize his emotions.

All in all, Peter was beyond grateful to have had someone like Erik in his life. The metal-bender created an environment where his abilities, and the emotional weights that followed, were welcomed and nurtured. He had finally found someone who understood, and sympathized with, his pain and fears. In Peter’s eyes, Erik was more than a mentor: he saw Erik as a friend, as a role model, and, most importantly, as the father he’d always dreamed of.

“We’re here.”  
Erik’s not-so-enthusiastic announcement brought Peter back to reality. Suddenly, the weight of their departure was quickly rediscovered, threatening to crush the small child back into his shell of self-doubt and loneliness. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he pulled his legs up to his chest and looked down at his small feet, which were covered by somewhat oversized Converses.

The metal-bender, who had just finished parking the car in the hospital’s lot, looked at the boy sitting in the passenger's seat and could instantly feel Peter’s negative emotions radiate off his small frame. Obviously, he himself was also exceptionally upset about leaving his son, but he couldn’t afford to drown in his own concerns and desires. Right now, he needed to cheer up Peter, so that their departure would be less painful than it already was.  
“In a few moments, you are going to meet your newborn baby sister,” Erik began aloud while instinctively tucking Peter’s loose bangs behind his ears, “and officially become a big brother.” He could see the corner of the boy’s lips twitch upward. “Do you think you’re ready?”  
“D-Don’t you want to meet her?” Peter sheepishly asked, silently hoping that Erik would accept his offer.  
“I…I wish I could, but the hospital most likely won’t let me into the room. Family members only, I’m af-”  
“You could pretend to be my papa,” the boy suggested, nearly causing Erik’s own heart to stop beating. “I-I mean, you’re kind of like a-”  
“Believe me, I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want a complete stranger to intrude on this crucial family moment.”  
Peter’s dark eyes saddened. “ Oh…Okay then.”  
With that, the boy opened the car door and trudged towards the trunk, leaving a guilt-consumed Erik to sit in the car for a few more seconds.

Outside, Peter threw his knapsack -- which now felt like lead -- over his shoulders before moving to stand in front of the car. His eyes then traveled to the hospital, where his newborn sister was waiting for him. He was immediately overwhelmed by two emotions: fear and excitement. He was going to become a big brother, meaning that his little sister’s well-being would depend on his success as a protector. He instantly conjured up numerous scenarios, some more extreme than others, that would put him and his family in compromising positions.

Erik’s incoming presence snapped him out of his muse. Once the boy’s eyes met the elder mutant’s own, the harsh reminder of their departure instantly consumed him. He could feel his smile fading, as well as his posture slouching.  
“Are you okay?” Erik asked.  
Peter didn’t want to tell his mentor how truly felt: he didn’t want Erik to be burdened with more questions and fears. So, after a few moments of thinking, the boy came up with an answer that would (seemingly) mask the internal pain.  
“I…I just wish I had gotten a cool superhero name like the others.” Erik raised his eyebrow. “Raven has Mystique, Alex has Havok, Sean has Banshee, and Charles has Professor X. Do you have one?”  
“The name Magneto had been coined once, but it didn’t really fit.” When he Peter’s face light up at the nickname, Erik’s view of the name almost immediately changed. “But…perhaps I was a bit too dismissive. Maybe I’ll give it a second chance.” He then knelt down in front of the boy in order to be at the same eye-level. “Superhero names aren’t a requirement-”  
“They have them to protect their families. When they save the world, they make a lot of enemies who are mad because their evil plans were foiled. They hurt superheroes, and their families, for revenge. They need secret identities to protect their mamas and sisters.”

Instinctively, Erik had prepared a long lecture about abilities and recklessness. Despite having an advantage over the average homo sapien, Peter still had numerous disadvantages that easily made him vulnerable. He was a six year old, yet he already believed that he could confront any threat and come out as the victor. In reality, he was still in the process of learning how his abilities worked, as well as how to control them. His gifts were still evolving, meaning that they have not reached their full peak yet. Other mutants, ones who are far older and more familiar with their abilities, could easily overpower the boy. Confronting enemies, at his age and stage of mutation, would only result in devastation. He couldn’t lose Peter…not after he’d lost so many others.

However, in a surprising twist, Erik opted to biting his own tongue and withholding the prepared lecture. Had he decided to move forward with his stern talk, the metal-bender would come out as a hypocrite. Why? Because Peter’s desire to confront those who threaten his values almost perfectly mirrored Erik’s own journey. The metal-bender had dedicated the last decade of his life to hunting down Shaw, the man responsible for destroying everything Erik had held dear. Hell, even after Shaw had sent an assassin to claim Peter’s life, that had only fueled Erik’s quest for vengeance. For both Peter and Erik, everything boiled down to family. They would do anything to defend or avenge their loved ones: they’d confront bullies, risk their own lives and values, and, in Erik’s case, even kill. Family was all they had left…and they would do anything in their power to protect them.

In the end, Erik decided to stare at his son with a warm and understanding gaze, silently (but reluctantly) approving Peter’s wish to become a true superhero, an individual who pursued villains so others could pursue happiness. Erik’s blue eyes scanned his son, while his brain implanted every detail on Peter’s face, knowing fully well that it could be the last time he’ll ever see his son this young, this innocent, ever again. His blue eyes moved from his son’s small nose to his beautiful white hair. Surprisingly, it was at that moment when Erik discovered an interesting detail that had somehow managed to escape his radar: the roots of Peter’s hair were not white, but actually silver…He couldn’t stop a small smile from escaping. His inspection ended at his dark irises that managed to light up the night sky. Then, he was reminded of-

“Before we depart, I want to give you something I’d promised you so long ago.”  
As Erik reached into his coat pocket, Peter tilted his head. “A present? B-But, I didn’t get you anything!”  
“It’s alright. I didn’t expect you to give me one.” Erik pulled a neatly wrapped item from his pocket and held it out in front of the boy’s face. “I apologize if my wrapping is atrocious.” The boy slowly took the present from his mentor’s hand and stared at the item as if it were an alien. “It doesn’t bite.”  
Eventually, Peter’s small hands slowly unwrapped the gift. He treated the disposable paper as if it were fine China, or wires that could detonate a nuclear bomb; even without knowing what the present was, in Peter’s mind, it was already considered valuable.  
Finally, when the last piece was torn off, Peter found himself staring at silver goggles.

The lenses were round and a bit too big -- they could almost completely cover the boy’s small nose, -- but they would definitely protect Peter’s eyes whenever he decides to run at his full speed. The padded rubber strap was flexible, yet it could withstand from immeasurable pressure. Peter was speechless.

“I meant to give it to you after you had complained about things flying into your eyes as you ran, but life had gotten in the way.” Peter still couldn’t speak, prompting Erik to further defend the gift he’d purchased. “Every superhero has a signature weapon or accessory that defines their character. I figured that a rising superhero like yourself would need an accessory that would become your symbol, while also providing you with some comfort and protection. Here.” Erik removed the item from Peter’s relaxed grip and carefully placed the goggles over his son’s eyes, tucking in loose strands of white hair. After a few seconds of adjusting, Erik was satisfied with his work and gently turned the boy so that he’d see himself against the car. For a few moments, the boy stared at his reflection in shock, his mind unable to process what had just transpired. Eventually, Peter looked back at Erik and lifted up the lenses until they were resting against his forehead. He stared at Erik for a few more seconds before rushing towards him and wrapping his small arms around Erik’s neck. The older mutant instantly welcomed the unexpected gesture by wrapping his own arms tightly around Peter’s back and pulling the small frame close to him.

The pair remained on the ground and continued to embrace one-another. Erik could feel the boy’s body begin to jolt and shake due to incoming tears. So, he opted to slowly rocking the boy from side to side, as well as tighten his own hold. Peter buried his face into Erik’s shoulder, not caring that his own snot and tears were being absorbed by Erik’s jacket.  
“Everything will be okay, Peter,” Erik whispered. “We will cross paths again.”  
The statement slipped out of his mouth without his consent. Truth be told, Erik had no idea if he would ever see Peter again: there were too many threats that needed to be eradicated. He couldn’t risk visiting Peter, knowing very well that enemies would be on his tail, waiting strip him of his baby son, his last light.  
“Really?!” Peter carefully pulled himself from Erik’s embrace in order to meet his gaze. “Y-You really want to see me again?”  
The metal-bender was somewhat shocked by the boy’s question. “Of course, Peter! I would never abandon someone as remarkable as yourself.”  
“When will I see you again?!” Peter’s voice, which now contained overwhelming hope and excitement, practically raised an octave.  
“Very soon.”  
“When’s soon?”  
“Soon is soon.”  
“But-”  
“I believe we’ve already had this conversation earlier,” Erik replied with a smirk.  
“You’re really going to visit me?” A nod. “Pinky promise?”  
When the boy raised his tiny pinky, Erik almost instantly wrapped his own limb around the boy’s. “With all of my heart.”  
When they unwrapped their pinkies, Peter released a mighty smile that caused Erik’s own heart to dance. Maybe his promise a bit…much, but the metal-bender took comfort in knowing that he’d leave Peter in a happier, more optimistic state. After everything the boy endured, he didn’t deserve to feel abandoned again. Now, whether or not he could uphold his end of the promise was a different story.  
“I’m really going to miss you, Erik.”  
“I’m going to miss you too.” The elder mutant gently cupped the boy’s neck. “Peter, it’s rare to find someone with such a determined spirit, a curious mind, and pure heart like yourself.” He wanted to rehash previous lectures regarding pride and individuality, but he ultimately came up with an abridged version. “Don’t ever change…for anyone.” Peter, moved beyond words, simply nodded his head. “So,” Erik continued as he directed his gaze towards the hospital, “are you ready?”

It was a simple question that held enormous weight. Within the single question, numerous others were being conveyed: Are you ready to say goodbye?; Are you ready to become a big brother?; Are you ready to take responsibility?; Are you ready to protect and defend your family and values with all of your heart?; Are you ready to face the world, possibly on your own?; Are you ready to become a mutant?

With a determined nod, Peter released a confident smile before striding over towards the facility, where his newborn sister awaited his arrival. However, before he crossed the parking lot, the white-haired boy turned around to face Erik, potentially one last time.  
“Thank you,” he said, “for everything. Goodbye Erik!” He exclaimed with a mighty wave.  
Erik, who was on the verge of tears, simply waved back at the boy and gave him a reassuring smile. When Peter finally entered the hospital and disappeared into the facility, Erik finally allowed a single, lone tear to fall down his cheeks.

Peter was more than his son; Peter was Erik’s hope. He proved to Erik even the brightest of beings can lose hope. He taught Erik that kindness wasn’t a weakness, but rather a unique strength that held more power than others realized. Peter Maximoff was living proof that goodness, despite enduring horrific and devastating pain, could still prevail. Erik didn’t want such purity and innocence to be tarnished any further. So, as he watched the boy vanish, he made a silent vow to himself: he vowed that to eradicate Shaw, and any other being who dared threatened his family, from the earth. He vowed to advocate for a world where all mutants would be seen as equals or superiors, and where they would be able to live freely and shamelessly. He promised to make the world a better place for the mutant race…for Peter.  

With a heavy sigh, the metal-bender slowly made his way back to the carseat before shifting to gears to drive. As the vehicle exited the hospital parking lot, Erik looked back one last time and smiled.  
“Goodbye…my son.”

He drove off into the distance, into the night, more motivated than ever before. He was ready to destroy Shaw and his minions, finally freeing him of the endless search that re-opened some of Erik’s most painful wounds. He was ready to fight for the mutant race. He was ready to fight for his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sits back and inhales alcohol*
> 
> I apologize if the ending sucked -- I'm still juggling academics, field study planning, and personal issues. However, I felt like I needed to update the story for you all :) Feedback is especially welcomed here :D 
> 
> Once again, thank you all for the endless support, feedback, and patience! I'm very lucky to have been introduced to some amazing and insightful individuals, and I hope that no matter what happens, we'll all keep in touch. If anyone has any Dadneto stories they recommend, or if anyone is writing any stories, please feel free to inform me about them! I'd love to get to know you all a little bit better, and what better way to do that through reading stories you all have written or recommended!
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Please feel free to write them down in the comments :)
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	22. Chapter 21 (1973)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Happy 2017! Here is the first chapter for the Days of Future Past portion of this story :D Thank you all for your patience and support!!
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

**(Washington D.C, 1973)**

“Peter! The cops are here again!”

Despite _Hello Hooray_ blasting throughout his room, also known as his mother’s basement, Peter Django Maximoff could hear the announcement from upstairs. After glancing at the staircase that bridged the gap between downstairs and upstairs, he instinctively bolted from the couch to the ping pong table, where he started a tournament against himself. As the approaching footsteps increased in volume pacing, the now silver-haired mutant sprinted towards his stereo and increased the music’s volume, hoping to convince the cops that he hadn’t heard their arrival and, therefore, wasn’t aware of any suspicious behavior. When the white ball hit the right side of the table, Peter returned to his match and whacked the ball with all of his might. Finally, as the stomping of shoes made their way down his wooden staircase, Peter instantly conjured up the same old excuse he’d been using during the last few years.

“What do you guys want? I didn’t do anything!” Before the figures could speak, Peter bolted back to the couch and spread himself against the surface, leaning back against the cushions. “I’ve been here all day.”  
As he calmed himself down, his brain finally registered the physical appearance of the cops. However, there was something very familiar about them, especially the tallest and the smallest cop. They looked like-  
“Hello Peter. It’s been a while…”  
That voice. That unforgettable poshy voice. Peter leaned forward and carefully examined the smallest and dirtiest stranger, whose eyes were covered by round sunglasses.

The man wore a white tank top that was covered by an open peach flannel shirt. His brunette hair was greasy and barely combed, making him look homeless. Baggy jeans, whose bottoms almost covered his black sneakers, further decreased the man’s already small form. All in all, the stranger could’ve been mistaken as a Woodstock attendee. However, despite his physical appearance, the eloquent and smooth voice completely challenged any previous assumptions. The man’s voice reminded him of-  
“Don’t you recognize him?” a new, American voice asked.  
Peter’s eyes snapped from the dirty hippie to the taller, more put-together man who also wore thick glasses and an open flannel. Once the speedster’s eyes met the second stranger’s, he was hit with waves and waves of memories.  
“P-Pointdexter?! Charles?!”  
When the two older mutants nodded their heads, Peter released the brightest smile that hadn’t been displayed since his baby sister’s birth. The runner bolted from the couch and instantly appeared between Charles and Hank, much to their surprise. The pair felt arms wrap themselves around their shoulders, pulling them both into a side hug.  
“Holy hell, I haven’t seen you guys in a long time!!” He turned to the telepath. “I’m digging the new look, man. Everyone needs a makeover, or under. And Pointdexter, you really haven’t changed!”  
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Charles wearily replied.  
“Eleven years,” Peter instantly answered. “Not that I’ve been counting. Man, it’s good to see you two again,” he concluded with the utmost sincerity.  
Before the telepath could respond, Hank’s eyes narrowed. At a closer inspection, the genius could see a couple of (small) cuts littered on the runner’s face. He also spotted a fading black eye.  
“What happened to your eye?” he asked, moving to inspect the damage.  
For a brief moment, Peter’s eyes flashed with fear and pain. However, being the overly optimistic mutant he is, he simply shrugged his shoulders.  
“Eh, I got into a fight with some guy talking nonsense about my sister.” Before anyone could ask further questions, he clear his throat. “So,” he continued as he bolted from the trio to his couch, “what are you doing with the cops? Don’t cops usually look neat, rather than Frigid Pink rejects? Are you guys undercover cops?!”  
Meanwhile, both Hank and Charles were struggling to process the numerous questions that spewed from the younger mutant’s mouth within a span of three seconds. However, since the third member of the arriving trio was from the future, he was already used to the boy’s quick mind.  
“Just relax, Peter. We’re not cops.”  
Before they could breathe, Peter had zipped past them and extracted Charles’ wallet from his pocket. He quickly examined the contents of the item, including a particular card that had been wrinkled.  
“No, you’re not cops. Hey, what’s with this gifted youngsters place?” he asked before dropping the contents onto the empty table in front of his couch. “Did you turn the mansion into a school or something?”  
“That’s an…old card,” Charles replied while aggressively grabbing a hold of his stolen items and shoving them back into his jean pocket.  
“So, you turned the mansion into a school now? Is the place filled with mutants like us? You know, my sister-”  
“The school hasn’t been operating since the Vietnam War began. Dozens of potential students and professors were drafted…including Alex.”  
Peter felt his stomach plummet at the news regarding Alex’s location. “And Banshee?”  
Hank’s blue eyes saddened. “Dead.”  
“Raven?”  
“She left the group for…personal reasons.”  
Peter’s heart twisted, while his mind drifted to the summer of 1962, when he had been living at the mansion. Every day, even as he’d grown older, he had been reminiscent about the unforgettable summer he’d spent at the mansion, with mutants he’d considered his second family. He missed the big facility, where he could freely exercise his abilities. He missed being a part of a community where he was the majority instead of the minority. He missed sitting on top of the satellite dish and staring out into the open fields, as well as night skies. Since he’d returned home, Peter had been counting the days until he would finally be able to return to the mansion, his second home; He had been counting down the days he’d be able to reunite with his friends, his second family. But, most importantly, he’d been waiting for-  
“Erik?”  
“That’s why we’re here, Peter,” a new voice chimed in.

The runner turned his gaze towards the third member, who didn’t look familiar. The man was almost as tall as Hank, far more muscular, and sported an unusual haircut. He looked more muscular and intimidating...not that Peter was scared. In fact, if that man tried anything funny, Peter would incapacitate him in less than a second.  
“Uhhh,” Peter began while pointing at the man, “is he a professor, or-”  
“Peter, this is Logan Howlett,” Charles introduced. “He needs your help; we all need your help.”  
His attention thinning, Peter zipped up to his _Pong_ game and began to play a match. “With what?” he asked absently, his eyes too occupied keeping track of the tiny dart zooming from one paddle to the next.  
“We need to break into a highly secured facility…and to get someone out.”  
“Prison break? That’s illegal, you know.”  
The elder mutant’s eyes traveled to all of the items Peter had undoubtedly stolen using his enhanced abilities. Although Charles would never admit it outloud, he found himself beaming with pride over Peter’s newfound confidence and overall advancement: they proved that Peter had grown up, and was on the path of becoming a proud mutant…or a proud criminal.  
“Well, only if you get caught,” Logan responded while his eyes landed on a stolen _Pepsi_ sign.  
“So, what’s in it for me?”  
While Charles and Hank were slightly surprised by Peter’s new attitude -- when he was a boy, his heroic actions and generous contributions never came with leverage or special benefits; they were often selfless acts, -- Logan smirked. He knew exactly what Peter would want.  
“You, you kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon.”  
The game’s audio suddenly comes to a halt, leaving the once chaotic screen blank, revealing the growing interest within the teenager’s eyes. Curious, Peter slowly turned in his seat to face the trio.  
“Who’s in the Pentagon?”  
“A prisoner,” Charles answered bitterly. “A monster.”  
“Okay, but last I checked, I’m pretty sure society wouldn’t want us to free some criminal back onto the-”  
“Erik’s in there,” Hank finished. “We need to break Erik out of the Pentagon.”  
For a second, Peter’s world came to a complete halt. His mind was overwhelmed by memories shared with the man he considered a mentor. However, those memories were quickly overshadowed by the reality of Erik being locked up in the freaking Pentagon.  
“What the hell is  he doing in the Pentagon?” he asked, hints of concern hidden in his voice.  
“That’s his story to tell,” Charles answered.  
Still hesitant, Peter turned to Logan. “How do I know I can trust you?”  
When the man lifted his fist, Peter’s mind instantly went into attack mode -- he knew he could take out the taller man without breaking a sweat. However, much to his surprise, wooden claws slowly began to emerge from his knuckles. The nauseating squishes and crunches from his limb made Peter flinch. Eventually, he found himself staring at three pairs of bone claws. He looked up at Logan, who stared at him with a look of amusement and pride.  
“That’s cool, but it’s disgusting,” Peter replied.  
“So,” Charles began, “do you want to break Erik out of the Pentagon?”

Peter’s inky irises traveled to the goggles that rested on his coffee table. He then looked at the purple stuffed bunny, which now belonged to his baby sister, resting on his couch. Originally, if Peter were still an oblivious kid, he would have been stoked to hear that his mentor was alive; he would have immediately wanted reunite with the man he considered a father. However, as a teenager whose responsibilities have redirected themselves towards his family, he was extremely reluctant about taking on this mission. If Erik were actually in the Pentagon, and if he was actually classified as a criminal, then assisting him in a breakout could result in devastating consequences. Following his tenth birthday, Peter had realized that Erik was never coming back, meaning that the responsibilities of being the “man” in the home shifted onto his shoulders. He had taken care of both of his sisters, as well as his mother, for the past few years; using his super-speed, he shoplifted food and supplies for his family. He had gotten used to protecting and caring for his family without any guidance from Erik. He had simply learned to grow up without Erik. Now, after hearing that he may be reunited with him, Peter was fearful of the possibility of the metal-bender re-entering his life again. Just the idea alone brought so much danger… and so much pain. That all said, he knew that he owed Erik for everything he’d done during that wonderful summer. Hell, he owed Erik the world…

He zipped over to the coffee table, lifting up Erik's gift and placing it over his eyes. With a confident smile, he turned to the trio of elder mutants.  
"Let's do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue has been alternated a bit, but only to fit the characters. 
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Don't be shy :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)
> 
> P.S: What was your favorite superhero movie of 2016? For me, Deadpool was the only superhero film that met (and even exceeded) its expectations! It's also one of the only few comedies that had me laughing almost the entire time xD Every other superhero movie -- yes, I'm including Civil War -- was either disappointing, underwhelming, or straight-up awful :/


	23. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :)
> 
> I sincerely apologize for the lack of updates. I'm in the process of moving to New York City (for a couple of months), and that has taken up an enormous chunk of time! However, I finally managed to find time to complete another chapter!! 
> 
> Thank you all for the endless support, comments, criticism, and overall love :D It all means the world to me, and I do not plan on letting ANY of you all down :D
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling Errors and possible OOC-ness!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!

Erik Lehnsherr -- Holocaust survivor, former Nazi hunter, manipulator of magnetic fields, and America’s Most Wanted criminal -- turned onto his back, trying to put as much of his body onto the small pad that rested against the sterile walls. With a sigh, he folded his hands and placed them onto his chest before directing his blue eyes towards the black ceiling.

During these last ten years, there were only two people who he could see: the man who delivered his daily meals and his own reflection glued onto the glass barrier above him. Besides them, Erik had no encounters with any living being since his capture following former President John F. Kennedy’s assassination. It was quite odd, actually: he enjoyed the isolation, the disconnection from the world around him. Yes, there were moments when he yearned to breathe fresh air, but that desire didn’t overshadow his current state of peace. Being alone for ten years gave him the opportunity to reflect on past events, on past mistakes. Whenever he found himself drowning in regret or rage, he resorted to meditation in order to calm his mind; he eventually made a habit of bringing his mind back to a peaceful state. However, the real reason he relished the silence is because he no longer had to deal with the arrogance of mankind. He would remain in an isolated prison cell while the world burned, while mankind collapsed due to their inability to accept the unknown. It was human pride and misunderstanding that forced him to reside in this cell for an indefinite amount of time. He knew that if mankind refused the help of mutants, the far-more superior being, then that was their loss and downfall. Now…what would he do for the next dozens of decades?

Before he could create a mental list, he could hear the sound of the shoot squeak open, as well as the sound of a plastic plate sliding on the ground. Opening his eyes, he glanced at the bland meal that slide towards his pad. However, at a closer inspection, he noticed a note covering the food tray. Leaning on one of his elbows, he sat up and read the word:  
**Mind the Glass  
** Confused, he looked up and found himself staring at- “What the...”

On the opposite side of the glass barrier stood a much older Peter Maximoff, who instantly released a warm smile: it was a smile that Erik missed dearly. The presence of the teenager -- oh god, did it feel weird to call Peter that -- instantly spawned memories of their time at the mansion together, when they were both young and (almost) carefree. He remembered their conversations that ranged from superheroes to acceptance; he remembered their daily exercises on the open field behind the mansion, where the satellite dish sat: he remember sitting on top of the big dish with his son, watching the sun disappear behind the hills before being replaced by the moon and stars. Erik’s desire for isolation completely shattered: now, all he wanted was to be by his son’s side.

When he looked at Peter, he noticed that the smile he wore wasn’t a smile of innocence, but rather of mischief. Confused, he raised his eyebrow, only to have the younger mutant place his hands onto the glass surface. After a few moments, the glass began to vibrate a little bit, prompting Erik to stand up from the pad. Soon enough, the barrier was shaking more faster until it, as well as the teenager’s hands, became a blur. Cracks began to fill the once endless silence. Then, much to Erik’s surprise, glass shards began to rain down on him. He ducked his head.

The time it took for the glass to shatter, as well as for the metal-bender to escape his nesting ground, was agonizingly slow. Well, at least in Peter’s perspective: as his abilities developed, his patience grew thinner. Twenty seconds -- ten seconds were wasted watching the glass fall, five on Erik simply staring at the teenager, and the last five on him actually climbing out of his cell -- felt like hours. Eventually, when Erik did pull himself onto the higher ground, Peter wasted no time planning their escape route, back towards the elevator.  
“In three seconds, those doors age going to open and twenty guards will be here to shoot us.”  
In the blink of an eye, Peter was suddenly directly behind Erik, placing one hand behind the elder mutant’s head, while the other was stationed on his back. “I know,” he replied. “That’s what I’m waiting for.”  
“What are you doing?”  
“I’m holding your neck so you don’t get whiplash.”  
“What?”  
“Whhiipplassshhh.”  
The sarcasm and smugness in Peter’s tone was blatantly obvious, ignited feelings of both frustration and amusement within Erik. However, they were quickly repressed when the doors peeled open, revealing the expected twenty guards with their glass guns drawn, aimed to kill. Aimed directly at his son.  
“Don’t move!” one of them demanded.  
“Peter?” he whispered in concern, missing the arrogant smirk forming on Peter’s lips.  
Then, without any warning, Erik was suddenly transported from the cell to the elevator, leaving a trail of fallen guards sprawled out in the hallway.

While the elder mutant was struggling to regain his composure after traveling faster than the speed of sound, Peter calmly swapped the guard uniform for his regular street clothes. When Erik looked over his shoulder, he was surprised to see the younger mutant in a different set of clothes, as well as a naked man duct-taped against the elevator corner. Before he could even ask what was happening, another wave of nausea attacked him, nearly bringing him to his knees. He closed his eyes in order to sooth his aching head.  
“You’re good,” a calm voice comforted, “it’ll pass. Happens to everyone.”  
“What the hell are you doing here?!” Erik mumbled before standing up to his full height.  
“Hey Peter, it’s wonderful to see you again after eleven years! Thanks for the breakout!” the teen sarcastically replied, unfazed by Erik’s darkening tone.  
“Answer me!”  
That small hint of sympathy the silver-haired mutant felt for the other quickly vanished. “Hey man, you’re in no position to give me orders.”  
“Why are you here?” Erik growled, his patience getting thinner by the second.  
“I could ask you the same thing,” Peter snapped back. “Why did they lock you up in there?”  
“Do not turn this conversation around!” Erik’s inquires weren’t coming from a place of anger or disapproval (to some extent), but rather genuine love and concern over the fact that his child was in a highly secured facility. “Being here puts you and your family in serious risk!”  
Peter snorted. “Since when did you still give a shit about me or my family?”  
Erik did a double take, shocked by the statement that left the teen’s mouth. “What did you say?”  
Before he received any response, the elevator door parted revealing-  
“Charles.”  
A punch to the face sent him onto the ground.

Erik didn’t exactly know what happened after that punch. He remembered staring directly into his friend’s eyes, reading the raw pain, anger, and betrayal written in those blue irises; he remembered standing in a flooded kitchen, watching five guards aim their weapons at the mutants; he remembered the beautiful feeling of metal overwhelming his senses and replenishing his sense of control over his abilities once again; he remembered watching said five guards fly across the kitchen in the blink of an eye, resulting in absolute chaos in the kitchen; he remembered staring at his son, who stood directly in the center of the now ruined kitchen, wearing his goggles and a cocky smirk. Soon enough, he and the gang were jogging away from the Pentagon and towards two sets of cars that were parked on a secret road.

“Logan, you’re with me and Hank,” Charles demanded, not sparring Erik a single glance.  
“Professor, are you sure it’s a good idea to leave Peter with Erik?” Hank asked.  
“If the police decide to follow us,” Logan answered, “then we need to be separated. We can’t afford to let Erik get captured again.”   
Truth be told, Peter dreaded the idea of being stuck in a car alone with Erik: there were too many awkward questions, that would ignite painful memories, that hung in the air. He didn’t want to be part of Erik’s life again, especially when he’d just begun to enjoy life without him. So, in his usual self, the teenager opted to use humor and sarcasm in order to advocate against the things he hated...or feared.  
“Sure, leave a sixteen year old teenager with America’s most wanted terrorist! Nothing can possibly go wrong!” he said.  
“You’re faster than the speed of sound,” the stranger replied as he took out a cigar. “I’m sure you can take care of him if he does anything stupid. Besides,” he continued, “I think you two could use some alone time…to clear things up.”

Charles, who remained silent during the exchanged, snapped his head towards Erik, who also wore a look of horror. If he remembered correctly, Logan was from the future...meaning that he knew about the connection Erik had with Peter. His former friend still hadn’t told the youngest mutant about their relationship. Now, while it would have been marvelous to witness Erik’s life completely flip upside down -- after all, he ruined Charles’ world when he took Raven from him -- Charles knew that Peter didn’t deserve that revelation to be placed upon him. He didn’t deserve to have his life ruined, especially when it seemed as if he was just reclaiming his life. In order to prevent Logan from spilling the beans, he cleared his throat and beckoned the mutant into the car.  
“We cannot afford to waste anymore time,” he said. “Peter-”  
“I don’t want to be in a car with him,” the teenager snapped back. “I broke him out of the Pentagon, and now I’ll take my leave!”  
“You can keep the car!” Charles suddenly said, much to Hank’s concern.  
“Professor, you’re really going to give Peter a stolen car?”  
“If it will pick things up, then yes. Come now,” he finished, “we must get moving before time runs out. Here,” he began as he reached into his pocket. “This is the address where I want you to meet us, as well as the car ke-”  
He didn’t even have time to finish the statement, for the two items were out of his extended palm in less than a second. Peter, who was now twirling the car keys around his finger, smirked at the telepath. Meanwhile, Erik felt himself defleat with relief: once again, the truth was avoided. He looked at Charles, who had placed himself in the back seat, and nodded in appreciation. His response was a muffled, “Piss off.”  
  
Soon enough, the car containing his (former) best friend and student took off into the distance, leaving father and son alone. Before Peter could do anything, he felt the keys get snatched from his palm.  
“Hey, what gives?!”  
“I’m driving,” Erik stated. “I assume Charles wants both of us to remain in one piece when we meet up with him, wherever it may be.” When the teenager opened his mouth to protest, Erik raised his hand to silence the other. “I’ll let you pick the music.”  
The silver-haired mutant couldn’t stop a smile from forming on his mouth. “Now you’re speaking my language.” He suddenly appeared in the passenger's seat, his sneakers resting on top of the dashboard. “Come on! I’d like to get this over with before the 70s ends.”

Erik rolled his eyes at the younger mutant’s impatience. He moved over to the driver’s seat, started the car, and followed the other car towards their assigned destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Days of Future Past portion of the story may be slightly longer than I thought :) 
> 
> The next chapter will have a beautiful yet painful(ly awkward) car ride between Erik and Peter. Plus, Erik learns about the relationship he has with his son, in the dystopian future, from Logan. I hope to have the next chapter up this weekend, seeing how I'm almost done with it. Things will REALLY pick up from there, so stay tuned!
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Please let me know and write them down :0) I enjoy reading comments and feedback! They always help improve my writing.
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	24. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here's a super long chapter!!!
> 
> I sincerely apologize for the delay! I'm an intern at a non-profit organization in New York City, and was recently given three types of jobs that required a lot of my time and attention. I've been very busy with that, as well as courses at college. Thank you all for the support, patience, and feedback :D It really means the world to me!!
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

During the unbearably tense car ride, Erik managed to find a way to spar glances at his son, whose gaze remained glued to the outside world. While Peter stared at the endless blue sky, his headphones providing him with atmospheric and distracting tunes, the metal-bender took advantage of the silence to properly examine his now grown-up child.

The core differences in Peter Maximoff, since their last encounter eleven years ago, were actually quite hidden. Aside from the obvious change in hair, voice, and height, the real change rested in his familiar eyes. When Peter was a child, those dark irises held purity, curiosity, innocence, and fragility: they reflected the boy’s young age. Now, looking into those inky eyes, there was wisdom and certainty within them. His eyes projected how the cruel, unstable world shaped him as an individual. There was very little fear in them, but now confidence and ambition. Optimism and curiosity still lingered, but they were more toned down than before.

“Why are you staring?”  
Erik was pulled from his evaluation and brought back to reality, where his son was removing his headphones while eying him with suspicion. “N-No reason,” he replied. “It’s just…you look different, is all.”  
“It’s called puberty.” Erik rolled his eyes, but refused to present a comeback. “Why were you in there?” Peter suddenly asked.  
“It’s none of your concern.”  
“Actually, it is.” The silver-haired mutant readjusted himself so that he was no longer leaning lazily against the seat. “The government labeled you as a national threat. They locked you hundreds of feet below the freaking surface! You must’ve done something pretty serious if the government placed you in some cell lower than hell. So, what did you do?” No reply. “Come on, tell me. What’d you do? What’d you doo? Why’d they have you in there?”  
Erik swore he could feel his brain cells dying every time Peter nagged him. In order to put an end to the constant questions, he decided to remain honest to the boy and confess. After all, he did owe him that.  
“I killed the President.”  
When he looked back at Peter, Erik could see unease slowly appear in those dark eyes. “You killed Kennedy?” A solemn, almost shameful nod was his response. “Why?”  
“I was trying to protect him. He was one of us.”  
“He was a mutant?” Another nod. “Holy shit, that is awesome! What was his ability?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Let me guess! Oh, I’ve got it: the power of persuasion! No wait!! Mind control!! I mean, what else explains why so many people loved him, even after that Bay of Pigs thing.” A beat. “Oh well, I guess we’ll never know, will we?”  
Erik could detect hostility and accusation in Peter’s tone. “Is something wrong?”  
“Nope,” the other replied as he directed his gaze back to the window. “Nothing at all.”  
“Peter, you’re not that good at hiding your emotions.”  
“What are you, a telepath?”  
“No, I’m simply observant. What is the matter?”  
He could see Peter mustering up the courage to speak his mind, to release all for suppressed anger and frustration. While Erik was dreading to hear the problems facing his son, knowing fully well that he played a big role in the teen’s current mental state, he wanted to provide Peter the space for him to vent and speak freely.  
“Eleven freaking years, and nothing: no visits, no calls, no letters.”  
“I was trapped in the Pentagon-”  
“For ten years! There was a year in between the time you left me and the assassination, and still nothing.”  
“What are you going on about?”  
“Where the hell were you?” It was a quiet question that held immeasurable weight to it.

Erik stopped himself from answering honestly, mostly because the truth was even more devastating than an lie. Following the death of Shaw, Erik felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders: he felt more independent and empowered. The man responsible for the various, life-altering tragedies finally met his demise. Erik’s newfound freedom influenced him to take the well-being of the mutant race into his own hands. The metal-bender spent that entire year with the Hellfire Club, seemingly liberating as many endangered mutants as they could. However, in the midst of creating a mutant-proud world, he had completely forgotten about his son…the child he did all of this for. Before he had accidentally assassinated Kennedy, there was an entire year that could have been used differently. Erik could have visited Peter and his family, knowing fully well that the most dangerous threat was now finally gone. Hell, even if he decided not to stop by, he still could have written to the boy. Instead, he became too invested in fulfilling his environment of the world, and basically broke off contact from the boy. He had abandoned him…

“Peter, I’m-”  
“Whatever,” he mumbled back. “It’s not like you’re the first person whose abandoned me.”  
Ouch. “I was tracking down Shaw,” Erik lied.  
“Shaw?” Peter pressed. “That evil dude who killed everyone you loved?”  
“You could’ve phrased that a little more delicately, but you are correct. After our departure, I spent the entire year searching for him.” It absolutely pained him to lie to his son, and on such an extreme level, but it was necessary. “He was planning a nuclear war.”  
“Really? We didn’t learn about that in history class.”  
“He was a very discreet and deceitful man. I would not expect anyone to have known about his attempts, mostly because he remained incognito, only leaving trails of bodies when convenient.”  
Peter looked genuinely surprised. “Holy shit,” he muttered to himself. “So…did you get him?”  
Erik smiled to himself. “Yes, I did.”  
Peter also felt a satisfying smirk creep up. “Good. After what that bastard did to you, I-”  
He quickly shut himself up, realizing that he was in the process of sympathizing with Erik again. Truth be told, Peter was over-the-moon when he heard that Erik’s tormentor had finally gotten what he deserved. However, the silver-haired mutant realized that sharing satisfaction and relief with Erik may transition into bonding. He didn’t want to bond with Erik, not when his life was finally finding some stability and joy.  
“I-I mean, he was going to nuke the entire world. The man needed to be stopped one way or another.” After a pregnant pause, Peter finished with, “I’m glad you were the one to stop him. ”  
Erik turned to face the teenager, who was struggling to suppress the true joy he felt. The metal-bender knew Peter remembered the stories about Shaw and the horrors he inflicted upon him. He knew that Peter still cared about him, but was directing all of his energy into presenting himself as untouched by the victory. Yes, it hurt. But, after the lack of contact for eleven years, Erik knew that he deserved the different attitude.  
“So, where’s Shaw now? I didn’t see him in the Pentagon.”  
“Believe me, no prison cell would be able to contain that man. He was far too powerful, and-”  
“Was? What do you mean ‘was’?” Then, before Peter’s brain could even process it, he put two-and-two together. “You…killed him?”  
“Yes.”  
The lack of remorse caused Peter to involuntarily shiver. He understood why Erik seemed unphased at the fact that he’d killed a man in cold blood -- after all, the killer was a man who basically shattered his world, -- but it was still disturbing to hear. Maybe it’s because he’d never met anyone who was so willing to take a life. Or, maybe it was because he himself couldn’t imagine executing someone without some lasting traits of guilt or remorse.  
“Oh…That’s…Okay, then.”  
“Peter, I’m not the enemy here,” Erik calmly replied.  
“I never said you were.”  
“But you’re thinking it.”  
“Look man, I…” He released a mighty sigh. “It’s…kind of weird to know that you’re a killer, you know? But, seeing how you two weren’t actually buddies, I guess I understand why you…did what you did.”  
“Appreciate it.” After a long pause, Erik decided to turn the topic of conversation around. “So, how have you been?”

Peter, who had fiddled with the goggles resting on his lap, stopped and looked at Erik. “Me? Umm, well…”  
“How is school?”  
“Pretty good. Straight A’s all the way! I even got an award for engineering.”  
“Are you serious?” The teenager nodded. “That’s wonderful news!”  
Peter was shocked by Erik’s reaction: honestly, he expected the older mutant to brush aside his achievement. “Really? You’re, like, actually happy for me?”  
“Of course! Although, I’ll admit, engineering isn’t a subject I expected you to excel at. If anything, I-”  
“Thought I’d be a track star? Don’t worry, I’m pretty awesome at that too.” Peter shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. My teacher said that engineering is creating stuff to solve problems. I guess I’m just good at problem solving.”  
Erik’s mind flashed back to the summer of 1962, when Peter had saved his life by gathering up endless pillows and cushions to break his fall from hundreds of feet in the air, after the training exercise turned sideways. He remembered the cabin in Maine, where Peter created a wonderful plan (in mere seconds) to disarm the giant. It was true: his son was a wonderful problem-solver, mostly because he understood the problem faster than anyone else and could identify potential resources in seconds. His abilities extended beyond his speed.  
“Do you think you’ll pursue a career in engineering?”  
“Woah man, I’m still only sixteen. Let me still be a kid before I have to think about bills and stuff.”  
“Fair enough. How is the family?  
In the back of Peter’s brain, he knew that Erik was trying to rebuild the burnt bridge between them. While he was tempted to just end these conversations, the younger mutant found himself actually enjoying talking to Erik like they had long ago. He missed talking to a parental figure who actually listened to him, who seemed interested in his life and struggles. Or…maybe he just missed talking to Erik.  
“They’re doing good,” he said with a nod. “My little sister is a pain in the ass, but she’s just a kid. I’m sure it’s just a phase.”  
“And your mother?”  
“Good. She’s got a new boyfriend who is…something.”  
Erik turned to look at Peter and he noticed the change in enthusiasm when the boyfriend was mentioned. “You don’t sound too fond of him.”  
“I mean, he’s kind of an asshole towards me. But hey, it could be worse.”  
“Peter-”  
Before Erik could press further, he noticed a couple of small lacerations marking Peter’s face. He also finally registered the small, fading bruise that rested on the teenager’s eye. Instinctively, he removed one hand from the wheel and grasped Peter’s chin, turning the other mutant’s face in order to get a better view of the damage inflicted. Obviously, Peter didn’t take the action so lightly.  
“Woah woah woah, what the hell are you doing?!” He asked while trying to escape from Erik’s grasp.  
“Where did you get these wounds?”  
“I-ack! Let go of me, man!” After a few more moments of struggling, Peter finally freed his chin. “Jesus, give a man a warning.”  
“Do not change the subject. What happened?”  
“I got in a fight, okay? Some guys were talking shit about my sister, and I beat them up! You happy with that conclusion, Sherlock?”  
“No, I’m not. You’re lying to me.” A beat. “Did he do this to you?”  
Peter clenched his jaw before fixing his gaze to the goggles on his lap. “Erik…”  
“Was it him?” the other ask more intensely.

After swallowing his pride, Peter slowly met Erik’s concerned gaze and revealing everything the metal-bender needed to know. Erik wanted nothing more than to stop the car, right there and then, and just hug his son. Scratch that: he wanted to turn the car right around in order to locate and eviscerate that asshole. How dare **anyone** lay a single hand on his son?! Erik was so infuriated  that he couldn’t think properly anymore. Suddenly, a loud groan emerged from the vehicle, which was beginning to crumble in on itself and threatening to crush the two occupants. Erik was going to crush them to death.

“Woah woah woah,” Peter began, trying to keep low in order to avoid any metal spikes or sharp objects that could impale him, “it’s okay, man! Jesus Christ, calm down before you kill us both!”  
Peter’s pleas forced Erik back to the present, where he finally acknowledged the damage he was creating. With a couple of meditative breaths and a flick of the wrist, the car was back to it’s original form (except for the new scratches and dents). He looked back at Peter, who was eying him carefully.  
“You good, dude?” When Erik nodded, the silver-haired mutant slumped in his seat with relief. “Whew. Let’s never do that again, okay?”  
“How long has he been hurting you?”  
The younger mutant swallowed and straightened himself up. “Since he found out I was a mutant.”  
“Does your mother know about this?” Silence. “Peter, you need to tell her what’s been happening.”  
“I’ve never seen her this happy…not since Lorna was born. I’m not going to take away her happiness all because I can’t take a couple of hits.”

Suddenly, without any warnings, the car to a screeching halt, nearly sending Peter headfirst through the windshield -- Thankfully, the road they were driving on was completely deserted and wouldn’t draw suspicion. With a heavy sigh, Erik pinched the bridge of his nose and turned in his seat so he’d completely face his son, who was trying to divert his eyes elsewhere.

“Peter-”  
“Drop it, okay?”  
“Absolutely not! A child, a minor, is being beaten by an adult. That’s illegal and, quite frankly, immoral.”  
“My mom is raising mutants all by herself, okay? She has a lot on her plate, and it wouldn’t be right for me to deprive her of someone who makes her happy.”  
“You’re her son,” Erik pressed. “Whether you believe it or not, you are her happiness.”  When the teenager shook his head, Erik added, “What if he hurt Lorna?” The moment that scenario left his mouth, Erik could see absolute rage briefly flash in Peter’s dark eyes. “You need to intervene now before it escalates to something worse.” The metal-bender lowered his head so his son wouldn’t be able to escape his eyes. “Believe me, she loves you more than that pathetic excuse of a man.”  
After a few seconds of silence, Peter finally met his father’s eyes. “Why do you care, huh? I mean, it’s not like you’re my father.” Erik actually flinched at the remark. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even remember me,” he admitted. “I mean, a lot of crazy shit can happen over a day, let alone eleven years.”  
“Well, if you care about someone, then it’s nearly impossible to forget them, even during the most trying times.”

Then, ever so slowly, the resentment Peter had felt towards Erik faltered. It was still lingering, but it was no longer dominating his mind. The silver-haired mutant could feel his eyebrow, as well as the corner of his lip, rise. During Erik’s absence, Peter believed that the other mutant had completely forgotten about him: he thought that Erik abandoned him. But now, to hear the metal-bender claim that he still cares about him sparked a warm feeling that he hadn’t felt since Lorna’s birth. While he was still angry that Erik couldn’t even spare him a letter or phone call, Peter was more forgiving of Erik’s unexpected absence.

The teenager suppressed his euphoria with a cough and rather odd statement. “You’re not a pedophile, are you?”  
Erik’s response was an eye roll before he moved to start the car. “I don’t know why I bother.”  
Finally, the car was roaring to life and began to lurch forward. While the (slightly distorted) radio music was playing softly in the background, the two mutants opted to remain silent in order to gather themselves after a surprisingly emotional conversation.

In all honesty, Erik was proud to see how much his son had grown emotionally. Peter’s initial reaction towards their reunion was hesitancy and anger; he hadn’t forgotten about the pain the other mutant had unintentionally inflicted on him, nor was his willing to ignore the fact that Erik was labeled as a national threat. The teenager had become less forgiving of those who hurt him, and had also become more cautious of those he interacted with. He was becoming a survivor; he was becoming a mutant. However, despite his more adult nature, he still had a kind and selfless heart. Despite growing up in a cruel world with little to zero guidance from any adult figure who could sympathize the burdens of being a superhuman, Peter was still a good person. Nobody, not even an optimist like Charles, was able to hold onto such redeeming and essential qualities. Looking at the teenager, and reflecting on how far he’d come, Erik found himself beaming with absolute pride over the man he had the privilege of calling his son.

“Thank you,” a voice mumbled from beside him.  
Erik glanced at Peter, who was fiddling with his goggles while attempting to properly articulate his sentence. “What did you say?”  
“Aw come on, don’t make me say it again,” Peter plead in a defeated tone. “Thank you…for still caring about me after all of these years. It…means a lot to me.”  
Erik smiled. “Believe me, it’s impossible to forget a being as remarkable as yourself.”  
After a few more minutes of silence, the silver-haired teenager turned to the metal-bender. “What happened between you and Charles? I’ve never seen him that mad before. Hell, he called you a monster.”  
Erik swallowed the lump in his throat, which had been triggered by the wave of memories from eleven years ago…when he betrayed Charles in the worst possible manner. “I…did something awful to him,” he admitted. “Honestly, I wasn’t shocked by his reaction in the kitchen. I deserved that punch; perhaps something even worse.”  
“What did you do?” No response. “Well…why did you do it?”  
“I was blinded by my ambition to destroy Shaw. I was so intent on finally putting that chapter of my life  to rest that I wasn’t even aware that I’d hurt him…not until it was too late.”  
“Oh shit. I’m…I’m sorry-”  
“What’s done is done. Shaw is gone, and that’s all that matters.”  
That wasn’t the response Peter anticipated. “He was your best friend. Don’t you feel remorseful? Or even a hint of guilt?”  
A long pause. “No.” Lies. “I did what had to be done. Shaw needed to be exterminated-”  
“Even if it was at the expense of someone you cared about? Someone who cared about you?”  
“Yes.”

Peter stared at Erik with unease. When he was a boy watching his two mentors bicker and bond, he believed that their relationship was indestructible. He remembered admiring the way those two communicated with each other, presenting philosophies and ideologies with the utmost respect for the other. Now, to hear that they had a fallout so bad that it resulted in a pacifist punching his (now former) best friend actually frightened Peter. Erik’s lack of remorse following such a devastating loss was also extremely unsettling: Peter knew that the metal-bender had pride, but he didn’t comprehend just how far it expanded, to the point where he refused to admit his wrongdoings and guilt. However, what actually elevated his fear towards Erik was the reason behind the conflict. Erik was so invested in completing a mission that he didn’t care who he hurt, even if it was his best friend, until it was too late and when the damage was beyond repair. Peter despised the idea of dropping all established allies, relationships, philosophies, and promises in order to ensure success. The reason he believed in Erik, even after the long period without him, was because he owed Erik another chance; in a time of uncertainty and rejection, Erik was his source of acceptance and love. Erik’s role in his life was monumental, and Peter could neither forget nor ignore his mentor. But now, to witness Erik’s willingness to erase all pre-existing relationships in order to complete a mission was unsettling and infuriating. According to Erik, at any given moment, Peter could become expendable. He bit his tongue, silencing himself before he asked something he’d regret, and nodded to himself.

“Remind me to never piss you off. So,” he began in a more cheerful, uplifting tone, “where are you all heading to?”  
“I’m not entirely-”  
“Can I come with you guys?”  
“Absolutely not!”  
“Why not?”  
“What if something happens that may compromise your safety or identity? What if government officials locate our destination and arrest-”  
“Can’t catch what you can’t see,” Peter shock back with a cocky smirk. “By the time shit hits the fan,  I’ll already be gone. Besides, you all could use a getaway vehicle…or person. I could also be a bodyguard! You saw how quickly I took down those guards in the Pentagon.”  
“This is not up for anymore discussion, Peter. You’re not coming -- I won’t allow it.”  
“Who died and made you boss?” Erik did not look amused by Peter’s comment. “Why can’t I come with you?”  
“Plenty of reasons: one, you’ve already endangered yourself and your family by assisting a terrorist out of the Pentagon; two, if anything happened to you-”  
“Nothing will!”  
“-then I would never forgive myself!” Both Peter and Erik were stunned by the statement. “I-I mean, your mother would never forgive me; and three, you have a family to protect, now more than ever. The Pentagon is filled with advanced technology that, regardless of your abilities, could identify your face and locate where you live. Government officials could interrogate your family, and even arrest them. You must remain here, by your family’s side.”  
After much consideration, Peter let out a frustrated huff in the sound of, “Fine,” before crossing his arms against his chest. Erik glanced at the younger mutant and smirked.  
“What do you expect will happen?”  
“With you guys? Catastrophy.”  
“I'm glad to hear that your confidence in us hasn’t wavered. It’s all the more reason to stay here and under the radar.”  
“I guess that’s true.”  
“Once everything is done and dealt with, perhaps I could swing by your place and meet your family.”  
“Don’t do that,” Peter said in a more humorless tone. “Don’t be that guy!”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“Don’t be that guy who walks away from his friends and returns when it’s convenient for him.”

Erik completely understood where Peter’s statement originated from. Peter didn’t want a disloyal person to enter and exit his life for many reasons: there was zero stability. The teenager wanted to find someone who would enter his life and actually remain in it. Erik and Charles’ abandonment, while understandable, still crushed him. He spent eleven years adjusting to the absence of his two mentors, people who sympathized with his concerns and struggles. It wasn’t right to re-enter Peter’s life as if nothing had happened, as if Erik’s absence wasn’t important.

Suddenly, before the conversation could continue, the sound of a car impatiently honking filled the silent highway. Erik and Peter looked forward and saw the car Hank and the others were driving in. Logan rolled down the window and stuck out his hand in order to point towards the destination. Meters away, there was a plane parked right in the center of an empty terminal. When Erik moved to roll down his window in order to confirm that he’d received the notification, he was shocked to find the passenger's seat empty and Peter running right beside the car in front of them. The silver-haired mutant’s legs and arms were moving in a blur, but he wasn’t breaking a sweat. Erik was astounded: his son was running at 60 miles per hour. He continued to observe his son, who was carrying on a conversation as if it were nothing, until Peter suddenly disappeared in a silver blur. Concerned, he glanced in all sorts of directions in order to locate the teen. Then-

“Hey Erik-”  
Surprised at Peter’s unexpected appearance, Erik let out yelp before accidentally swerving his own car from one side to the other. Eventually, he regained control over the vehicle before returning a glare to his son, who was casually leaning into his seat while removing his goggles from over his eyes.  
“Smooth.”  
“Christ, Peter! Don’t do that!”  
“You all are going to Paris. I checked the flight plan in the plane. Why are you all going there?”  
It took a second for Erik to process the information, as well as question, that was spewed out at breakneck speed. “I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted.  
“Hey, while you’re there, try not to kill anyone.”  
“I’m not a serial killer, Peter. I only use excessive force-”  
“So that’s what you’re calling it?”  
“-if absolutely necessary.”  
“When is ‘absolutely necessary?’”  
“If someone threatens to compromise my health or identity. Or, if there is little progress and more regression. Besides those instances, I’m usually more diplomatic.”  
“So, basically, if they out you as a mutant or disagree with your values.”  
“That’s not-”  
“It is the truth; I just removed all of the bullshit you added.”  
Erik felt his temper rising. “What is your problem?!”  
“You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” Erik looked appalled by Peter’s claim, but let him speak. “You hurt and abandon anyone who doesn’t agree with your values, or who you believe prevents you from completing whatever mission you have in store. Then, after you get what you want, you act as if nothing had happened, as if all of the people you hurt will forgive you! You did that with Charles, you did that with Hank, and you’re going to do that to me! Well, I’m not buying into your bullshit!!”

So, that was it. Erik already knew that Peter was harvesting feelings of anger and betrayal after their departure, but he didn’t anticipate what coming back would mean to the teenager. Peter was correct: after eleven years of silence, the man he viewed as a father suddenly waltzed back into his life and expected (mostly) everything to be normal again. Erik opted to remain silent and focused on driving to the plane, which was still sitting patiently in the field. After a few more minutes of silence -- Peter decided to turn off the radio, which hadn’t provided any substance to the car ride -- they arrived at the field, where the other three men were preparing the plane. Shutting off the engine, Erik released a sigh before turning his body so that he would completely face Peter, who was staring at his shoes. With slight hesitancy, the older mutant placed his hand onto the teenager’s shoulder and was surprised that it wasn’t immediately shrugged off.

“Peter,” he began, “I am incredibly sorry if I had hurt you.”  
“You didn’t,” the other snapped back, attempting to conceal the true pain he felt.  
“Yes, I did.”  
The teen fiddled in his seat while trying to articulate his main question. “Was I a burden?”  
“What?”  
“When you and Charles looked for Shaw, did you two want me gone because you thought I’d be a burden?”  
Erik felt a lump form in his throat: even as a teenager, Peter still believed all of his misfortunes, obstacles, and failures were his fault; it was an admirable and frustrating personality trait. With a heavy sigh, Erik squeezed his hand that rested on Peter’s shoulder.  
“My absence is more complex than it appears, but that still doesn’t excuse it. I’m sorry if I let you down all of these years...I’m sorry if you feel like I had abandoned you.”  
Peter nodded to himself before meeting Erik’s gaze. “Honestly, it’s okay. I mean, I was just a naive kid…I didn’t know any better. Besides, you were trying to do the right thing…even if it blew up in your face.” He let loose a small, sad smirk. “Really…I’m okay.” He knew that Erik wasn’t convinced, only more concerned. “I will be okay,” Peter clarified. “Right now, I gotta focus on my family.”  
Erik nodded in agreement before turning to see Hank and Charles standing in front of the plane, waiting for the next move. Their presence served as a painful reminder that, once again, he and Peter would be separated. But, like the previous times, Erik’s reason for leaving Peter extended far beyond righteousness and pride: he was doing this for Peter.  
“It’s time,” he said before the duo exited the vehicle.

The metal-bender stretched his arms before turning back to his son, who was standing on the opposite side of the car. “Think fast.”  
When Erik had unexpectedly tossed the car keys for Peter to catch, the speedster's quick reflexes allowed him to catch the keys with ease. He ran to the driver’s seat, nearly knocking down the older mutant in the process, and shoved the keys into the ignition. Once the task was done, Peter stood in front of Erik.  
“I guess this is it, old man.”  
“We’ll see each other again,” Erik reassured. “I know we will.”  
“Yeah, well, if you do actually visit me, try not to have the feds hot on your trail. I’m already on their bad sides.”  
“I wouldn’t dream of endangering you or your family…except for that atrocious boyfriend of your mother’s.” Erik glanced around to make sure that none of the other mutants could hear the next statement. “Feel free to kick that arsehole’s ass.”  
Peter’s eyes brightened. “Seriously?” A confident nod was his response. “He won’t even know what hit him.” Peter extended his hand towards Erik’s own. “I’ll catch you later, okay?”  
Erik shook his son’s hand, taking note at how much strength and confidence was in that shake, before moving towards the plane. Suddenly, he remembered-  
“Peter! While I was in the Pentagon, I had a lot of free time to think.”  
“No shit.”  
“One of the ideas that came into my mind revolved around a certain mutant who desired a cool superhero name.”  
Peter felt his cheeks turn red due to embarrassment. “Dude, that was eleven years ago! I’m not interested in that kid-stuff. But, uhh, w-what was it?” he asked rather anxiously.  
“Quicksilver.”

Without any warning, Peter released a genuine smile. Memories of his time at the mansion, when he would run around and exclaim that he was a superhero, flashed before his eyes. He remembered watching the entire gang -- Raven, Hank, Sean, Alex, Charles, and Erik -- exercise their abilities and wishing that he would have a cool nickname like “Mystique,” “Havok,” and “Banshee.” He encountered the moment he confessed to Erik that he wanted a superhero name, even though his request was actually mentioned to hide his true emotions about Erik leaving him. Peter was surprised that, after all of these years, Erik remembered Peter’s wish and actually came up with a brilliant superhero name. Peter thought Quicksilver was perfect.

“Th-That’s, uhh…It’s alright, I guess,” he responded with a shrug, masking his euphoria. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He waved to Erik. “Goodbye, Erik!”  
The metal-bender smiled back. “Goodbye, Peter. I’ll see you soon…I promise.”  
When Erik finally disappeared into the plane, and when Peter had said his goodbyes to Charles and Hank, the let his shoulders fall before entering his newly-acquired car.

Today was a strange day: he broke into the Pentagon, freed a terrorist who just happened to be his (former) mentor, took down twenty-five guards, re-connected with said terrorist, earned a new superhero name, and now had a free car. Huh…maybe things were starting to look up after all.  

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Erik had finished cleaning up the last remainders of broken plates and glass that had fallen onto the ground when the plane begun to experience turbulence. He and Charles had a rough fallout that resulted in the telepath storming off to the cockpit, leaving Erik alone with his demons…and a cigar-smoking stranger. There was a word that continued to resonate in his mind, a word that was mentioned by both Charles and Peter: abandon.  
“You abandoned me!!!”  
_“You’re not the first person who abandoned me.”_  
  
The overwhelming and raw pain in both of their tones forced Erik to self-reflect on his damaging actions. It was true: his desire for vengeance and justice resulted in his departure from the people he loved, and from the people who loved him. He did abandon his best friend and his son --  there was no denying that. The truth devastated Erik. So now, as Charles stormed off into the cockpit, Erik was left with his own demons and regrets…and a cigar-smoking mutant who, apparently, was from the future. Then, without any explanation, questions regarding the future popped into his head.  
  
“So,” he began as he slowly moved to sit across from Logan, “you’re from the future?”  
“That’s right, bub.”  
“What was it like?”  
“Bleak…Hopeless…You name it.”  
"Survivors?"  
"Not many. A majority of the mutant race had been exterminated by machines called sentinels, robots capable of adapting to any superhuman ability imaginable. Those who survived their wrath went into hiding...which is what brought me here."  
Erik nodded absently, not really interested in the exposition. “What happened to the boy?”  
"Hmm?" the other absently asked.  
"The boy with the silver hair; what happened to him in the future?"  
Logan, whose eyes were originally focused on the cigar between his fingers, looked up at Erik. He didn’t need to question the other mutant’s sudden interest in Peter’s well-being: the fear and desperation in Erik’s eyes said everything he needed to know.   
“He died,” he replied truthfully.  
“How?” Erik immediately pressed.  
“He died…protecting his father.”  
Logan remembered the moment as if it were yesterday. He remembered watching Peter push Erik out of the sentinel’s reach, taking a wooden spear (conjured up by the weapon) to the spine. He remembered the metal-bender cradling his son, apologizing profusely about past mistakes he would never amend. He remembered the sound Erik made when Peter took his last breath; it wasn’t a dramatic scream, but rather a broken whimper that, despite the chaos around them, could be heard by every remaining mutant who also witnessed the tragedy unfold. He remembered witnessing a supposedly rogue antagonist rock his son back and forth, silently crying his heart out. That night was the night the villainous Magneto crumbled…and vowed to destroy the remaining sentinels.  
“Honestly, I’ve never seen a man more broken in my entire life, and I've lived a very long time,” Logan added as he looked up and saw devastation written clearing in Erik’s blue eyes.  
  
The revelation ignited a hint of hope inside Erik. While he was devastated to learn that his son had perished, it relieved him to hear that their relationship was in a good position -- one sacrificed himself for the other. The metal-bender felt a surge of determination emerge from inside. Once their mission in Paris was complete, he would vow to do whatever it took to ensure the future of the mutant race; He vowed to secure his son's future. 

As if Logan had sensed the newfound attitude, he opted to provide Erik with a final push. “The kid’s death is the reason two enemies pushed their differences aside and united to save the world.” He leaned closer to Erik. “Now, with you and Charles here, the world is being given a second chance. Your son is being given a second chance. Don’t fuck it up.”  
  
He wouldn't fuck it up...not when lives depended on him. He was going to liberate the mutant race from a grim future and save his son.  
Failure was not an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, I added/alternated different events:  
> 1.) Marya's boyfriend is abusive towards Peter  
> 2.) Peter dies in the future protecting Erik, which influences him to join the X-Men to defeat the Sentinels.
> 
> During the next few chapters, things will pick up!! 
> 
> Once again, thank you all for the endless kudos, comments, and patience!! I'm beyond grateful to have viewers (or fans) like yourselves, and you al continue to motivate me to write better and better chapters :)
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Don't be shy :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)
> 
> P.S: I'm considering writing drabbles revolving around hurt!Poe Dameron (as well as protective!Finn/BB8/others). if I decide to write this series, each chapter will feature some kind of Poe!whump (because, apparently, I really like that stuff) and his friends/family taking care of him :) If you all have any prompts/ideas, please feel free to write them in the comments below :D Feel free to be as specific or vague as you desire :)  
> It should be noted that I haven't written any slash stories, mostly because I'm not really into that kind of stuff. If you all want to see a slash story, then I'll try my hardest to write it :D


	25. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here's another chapter!! I felt awful about the lack of updates and decided to post a new update! These next few chapters will finally pick up the pace, and will hold crucial moments that will effect the X-Men: Apocalypse portion of the story.
> 
> Thank you all for the support and patience! 
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

**July 18, 1962**

**Dear Mama,  
** **I miss you so much!**

**I am having fun at camp! I’m making a bunch of new friends who like superheroes and comic books like me! They are all very nice people, and I have a lot of fun with them. I go on a lot of adventures with my new friends, and they teach me really cool stuff. I wish this summer never ends!**

**How are you back at home? Did you have the baby yet? I hope you didn’t, because I want to meet them and name them! I love you!**

**Peter :)**

“What’s that?”  
Peter, who had been reading the letter he’d written eleven years ago, folded it and placed it into his coat pocket. “None of your business, Lo.”  
The little girl, who wore a green princess dress that complimented her captivating green eyes, stood on her tippy-toes and looked over her older brother’s shoulder in order to get a sneak peak of the words written on the piece of paper. “Is that for Crystal?”  
“No, it’s not.”  
“Ohhh, you like her!” his little sister mocked, making kissing noises in the process. “What did you write? I want to see,” she continued as she moved to stand in front of Peter, aimed to snatch the note from his coat pocket.  
“Lorna, get out of my room.”  
“It’s a free country,” the little girl responded. “I can do whatever I want.”  
“Yeah, well, I’m the oldest sibling. So, what I say goes.”  
“Come on, let me see it!”  
“No! Lo, stop it before-”  
“You tell Mom? She’s getting ready for a meeting and doesn't want to be bothered. If you tell on me, she’ll be more mad at you than me,” Lorna rebutted.  
Peter couldn’t help but smirk: as annoying as it could be, the silver-haired mutant admired his sister’s persistent nature. “Lorna, go away. I want to be alone.”  
“Pete, can I please see what you wrote?”  
“Why are you down here?” Peter asked, pinching the bridge of his nose when he felt a small headache form.  
“I wanted someone to play with.”  
“Play with Wanda.”  
“She’s so annoying. I like playing with you.” When Peter didn’t respond, Lorna opted to grab ahold of her older brother’s sleeve. “Plleeease? Pretty please?”  
After a few moments of silence, Peter sighed before wrapping his arm around his sister’s smaller frame. “Okay. Just give me a few minutes, alright? I’ll be up there in a little bit.”  
“Okay. This time, you get to be the horsey!”  
Peter smirked as he watched his little sister trance up the staircase. She was annoying as hell, but he still loved her with every fiber of his being.

When Peter was finally alone, he took out the letter and re-read the entire piece for the twentieth time. He remembered writing the letter on a warm, sunny day in the summer. He remembered sitting on a fancy wooden chair, his small legs dangling from the seat. He could still hear Erik’s patient and calm voice over his shoulder, gently instructing the child how to write a small but former letter to his mother. Peter remembered the older mutant meticulously polishing the small note by correcting all of the grammatical and spelling errors. That experience was extremely significant in Peter’s eyes. Usually, if Peter messed up or completed a task at a slower pace, adults would simply take control over the situation and complete the assignment themselves, depriving the child of a learning experience and control over his own project. However, when he worked on the letter with Erik, he still had control over what words would make it onto the page. Erik opted to help Peter by offering him words of advice, yet he continued to watch the boy write his thoughts and feelings with little intervention. In the end, the note wasn’t a product of Erik’s impatience or standards: it was still Peter’s. It was first time Peter felt competent.

Truth be told, Erik’s practices had served as guidelines as to how to treat Wanda and Lorna. Despite his impatient nature, Peter didn’t want to strip his sisters from opportunities and achievements simply because he was bored. Whenever they were given a task, and whenever Peter felt like pulling out his silver hair due to boredom and frustration, he always took a small jog around the neighborhood before returning to his sisters They were smart women who refused help from anyone, and Peter respected their wishes.

He wondered what Erik’s reaction would have been once he saw Wanda and Lorna. Obviously, the emotional connection Peter felt with his family wouldn’t be felt by Erik, seeing how he was a total stranger to them. However, Peter did believe that the metal-bender would’ve been empathetic towards Wanda, particularly with her struggles controlling her mutation. Aside from simply missing Erik’s company, the teenager dreamed of Erik’s arrival into his life because he wanted help with how to train his sister. Peter was beyond grateful to have had a summer completely dedicated to acknowledging and controlling his abilities. He wanted Wanda to have that same experience, but he couldn’t do it alone. He needed an adult’s help, he needed Erik’s help, with training them and assuaging her fears of hurting someone. Peter could only do so much, which is why he wanted Erik to finally met his family…and perhaps become a part of it.  
“Peter, honey, could you come upstairs?”

The silver-haired mutant snapped his head towards the staircase that led to the living room, where his mother had called him. The teenaged zipped over to his desk and hid the letter inside his drawer that was filled with unsent letters addressed to Erik. Between the age of six and ten, Peter had written numerous letters to Erik in the hope that, one day, he would respond to one of them. However, as he had gotten older and more despondent, he decided to give up his attempts to send letters. However, between the age of eleven and thirteen, Peter still wrote letters to Erik but never sent them, knowing fully well that nobody would reply. He wrote to Erik as if he were writing in a journal, constantly reflecting on his sister’s growth and his own fears. When he finished, he would simply hide them in the drawer and let them attract dust and cobwebs. He didn’t mind that they were sitting in a dark space, waiting to be dissolved by time -- they still met a lot to him. Peter buried his note underneath his other letters before slowly closed the drawer. He released a small sigh before zooming up towards the living room.

“What’s up?” he asked as he skidded to a halt beside his mother, who was putting on earrings.  
“I’m going out now. You watch over Lorna and Wanda before Carl gets here.”  
“Wait…Carl is coming over? Come on, I’ve babysat before!”  
“I know, but I think you and him could use the time to bond a little bit more.”  
“Right, because he seems like the kind of guy who bonds with freaks like m-” Peter stopped himself from revealing a bit too much. “Hey mom, what do you think about Carl…in general?”  
Marya straightened up and looked at her son. “I think he is a wonderful man with a vibrant personality. He’s very insightful, articulate-”  
Peter wasn’t really paying attention to what his mother was saying, but rather how she spoke. Whenever she spoke of Carl, her eyes would glow with joy and warmth. He would always see the corner of her mouth twitch upwards, struggling to contain a smile. Peter never saw her mother speak about someone with such more enthusiasm. Actually, there were three other individuals she frequently talked about with the same amount of energy and pride: her children. While Peter didn’t care about himself, he was concerned that Carl would opt to hurt his sisters. Erik was right: he needed to get that asshole out of the picture. He would deal with his mother later; right now, his priority were his sisters, the two members of his family he swore to protect until the day he died.  
“Did you hear me?”  
Peter snapped back to reality. “Wh-What?”  
“Is everything okay, honey?”  
Swallowing his fear, Peter began with, “Mom, c-can we talk after the press conference? There’s…something I need to tell you.”  
Marya eyed her son with concern, but didn’t press further. “Okay, sweetie.” She moved to kiss her son’s cheek, earning a small groan of embarrassment. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”  
“Okay,” Peter replied warmly.  
When his mother began to walk towards the door, a question popped into the teenager’s head. “What exactly is this press conference for?”  
“It’s at the White House. Apparently, President Nixon is going to reveal a new security system!”  
“Sounds…pretty boring,” Peter admitted before zipping over to the television set resting on the living room floor.  
“It’s a big deal, Peter: it’s going to be aired on national television.”  
“I’ll keep my eye out for you.”  
“Goodbye Peter!” Marya announced as she opened the front door.  
“Bye mom! Love you!”  
When the door shut, Peter was finally alone with his thoughts. As he tried to outline how he’d reveal that Carl was an abusive asshole-  
“Hi Pete.”  
The silver-haired mutant sighed before slowly turning around to meet his little sister’s energetic eyes. “Hey, Lo. So,” he began as he moved to stand up, “I’m the horse?”

A few hours had gone by, and not much had happened. Peter and Lorna played horsey and superhero for a majority of the time before deciding to sit in front of the television in order to watch cartoons. As the older mutant sat in front of the screen, with his little sister sitting on his lap, Peter felt content. These small moments between him and his siblings were ones he wished would never end. Suddenly, without any warning, loud footsteps could be heard from upstairs. Peter turned to the staircase and saw his twin, Wanda Maximoff, sprinting down the stairs. Her long brown hair bounced around her back, while her green eyes held a fearful expression.  
“Wanda, are you-”  
“Switch the station!”  
“B-But we’re watching-”  
“Go to the Press Conference now!!”  
“Is everything-”  
“The event is under attack.”  
Peter’s world came to a halt. The only sound he could hear was his heartbeat frantically pounding against his chest. He instinctively pressed Lorna against his chest. He numbly nodded before quickly switch the station to the press conference.

The scene unfolding in front of their eyes could best be summarized with one word: chaotic. While officers and bystanders frantically moved to escape the White House lawn, an enormous concrete ring could be seen hovering over the entire setting. Rubble the size of boulders came crashing down onto the grass below, destroying chairs and platforms all around. Meanwhile, on top of all of that, gigantic mechanical robots were hovering in the air, randomly shooting at innocent men and women who were fleeing the scene.  
“Mom,” Peter breathed out in horror.  
Without a moment to spare, the teenager handed Lorna over to his sister and bolted down to his room in the basement. He grabbed his goggles and silver jacket before sprinting back up to meet his siblings. Wanda, who was trying to process what was happening, managed to grab a hold of her brother’s bicep.  
“Peter, what are you doing?!”  
“Mom is down there! I need to make sure she’s okay!! Keep Lorna safe and stay here. If Carl comes back, run.”  
“Carl? What does he-”  
“Do not argue with me!” Peter was using his “big brother” voice. “If Carl arrives, either stay hidden or get out of the house. Do you understand me?!”  
Wanda shakily nodded. “O-Okay. Peter, please be careful!”

The silver-haired mutant tightly hugged his twin before pressing a firm kiss on his little sister’s forehead. “I will,” he promised before bolting off to the White House.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit just hit the fan :D A little fun fact: in the Marvel comic book universe, a mutant named Crystalia Amaquelin (Crystal) is Pietro's ex-wife.
> 
> Stay turned for another update coming very soon. I decided not to post specific dates because my schedule is getting more and more hectic. However, like I mentioned, I promise to update this very soon. Besides, I'm having fun writing this :D
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Don't be shy :D
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)
> 
> P.S: If you want, please feel free to drop by my [Tumblr](http://cluelessfanperson.tumblr.com) and say "Hi!" I mostly post stuff relating to Marvel (Men), DC, and other fun stuff :D


	26. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here's an extra long chapter!! There's a lot of action in this, so I apologize for the excessive descriptions.
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!

Peter zipped past numerous obstacles, such as vehicles and bystanders, at record speed. A trip to the White House would take half an hour by car, an hour and a half on foot. However, due to his superhuman abilities and elevated anxiety, the teenager made it to White House in three minutes. Unfortunately, when he tried move closer towards the landmark, he found the task extremely difficult because the numerous individuals who attended Nixon’s event were rushing past him, shoving him from one side of the street to the other. Peter didn’t want to use his superspeed on the street because he knew fully well that he could accidentally harm someone. He came to a screeching halt a few blocks away from the White House, which now had an enormous stadium -- yes, a freaking stadium -- looming above it. Squinting his eyes, Peter could make out a floating figure right in the center of the levitating structure -- they wore a magenta outfit, including a massive cape. He looked like a comic book villain. He was so focused on trying to identify the stranger that he didn’t notice an enormous piece of rubble falling towards him. It landed on top of a car with a mighty crash, sending Peter onto the ground.

The teenager laid on the cement in a daze, trying to silence the increasing ringing reverberating in his ears. After a few moments, he shook away the stars from his vision and slowly stood up, coughing when dust from the fallen structure made it into his lungs. As he recovered, the runner began to frantically scan the crowd in search of his mother. When he didn’t see her in the stampede of people running in the opposite direction of the White House, he began to panic.  
“Mom?” he called out as he began to walk towards the crowds of people. “Mom?!” Nothing. “MOM?!”  
He removed his goggles in order to get a clearer vision of the scene in front of him. Unfortunately, he still couldn’t locate his mother. He reached that point of fear when he felt the corner of his eyes sting, threatening to release a couple of tears. Then, as if God himself sensed his growing anxiety, Peter saw his mother being carried off in a stretcher.  
“MOM!!”He made it to her in the blink of an eye.  
With the exception of a cut to her forehead, she looked relatively unharmed. However, as detected from the amount of pain in her eyes, something was still off.  
“What happened to her?” he asked a paramedic.  
While one of them was too busy trying to set up an IV, the other tried to shove Peter out of the way with his shoulder. “Step back, kid!”  
“I’m her son! What the hell happened to her?!”  
“I-I’m fine,” his mom gritted out. “Sweetie, y-you need t-to leave.”  
“Mom, everything is going to be okay,” the teenager reassured, giving her bloody hand a small squeeze. “What happened back there?”  
“Rubble from the stadium nearly crushed her. Luckily, we found her in time-”  
Peter’s mind blocked out the rest of the statement: his mother had nearly died. He felt anger boiling inside of him, threatening to release itself at any given moment. He was going to find the asshole responsible for all of this and make him pay.  
“Peter,” Marya began, “don’t go in there.”  
“Why?”  
“Th-There are robots that were de-designed to exterminate your kind.”  
Before he could ask what she was talking about, Marya was loaded into an ambulance. “Which hospital are you taking her to?” he asked the paramedic.  
“MedStar Washington Hospital Center.”  
“O-Okay,” he said, “I’ll meet you all there in a bit.” Peter turned to his mother. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”  
“Okay, sweetie. I love you.”  
“I love you too.”  
He watched the doors of the vehicle slam shut in front of his face before the entire ambulance took off. When he was sure that he was in the clear, he placed his goggles over his head and ran towards the stadium, which was beginning to descend towards Earth.

He was nearly at the White House when he was stopped by one of those giant mechanical robots he saw on television earlier. It landed directly in front of him, its yellow eyes pierce through Peter’s bravado. When it began to raise its arm, which happened to be a turret, the mutant merely smirked. His eyes darted to the back of the machine, where important-looking wires were exposed. In the blink of an eye, he zipped up to the machine and began to dismantle it, piece by piece. He mounted the giant robot and pressed his palms against the wires, watching them quickly vibrate before completely breaking apart. He then moved back onto the ground and began to circle the machine, nearly creating a mini-tornado. As he gained momentum, he would occasionally throw punches at any exposed area that wasn’t covered by thick purple metal. Finally, the machine collapsed to ground in a heap of wires and sparks. Peter’s own hands were covered with lacerations, but there weren’t bleeding too badly. Satisfied, he abandoned the ruined droid before running towards the White House. Suddenly, his clear pathway was blocked by the giant stadium, which had finally landed onto the hard surface of Earth. Dust and rubble shot out from all directions, nearly blinding Peter. The mutant ducked behind a car and let the dust settle before running through the stadium’s entrance. When he arrived, he was paralyzed by the sound of an all-too familiar voice: Erik

“You built these weapons to destroy us. Why? Because you are afraid of our gifts. Because we are different. Humanity has always feared that which is different. Well, I am here to tell you…to tell the world...you are right to fear us. We are the future. We are the ones who will inherit this earth. And anyone who stands in our way...will suffer the same fate as these men... you see before you. Today was meant to be a display of your power. Instead I give you a glimpse...of the devastation my race can unleash upon yours. Let this be a warning to the world. And to my mutant brothers and sisters out there, I say this: no more hiding; no more suffering. You have lived in the shadows, in shame and fear for too long. Come out. Join me. Fight together in a brotherhood of our kind. A new tomorrow...that starts today.”

Peter watched in horror as Erik, a man he considered a hero and mentor, present such an authoritarian speech. He didn’t want to accuse Erik of being a fascist or dictator, but the numerous guns pointed at President Nixon’s entire cabinet spoke volumes. Then, it clicked: Erik was going to assassinate the President on live television as a message to both humans and mutants. The teenager, who remained hidden behind, found himself shaking with anger. When Peter was a boy, he viewed Erik as a hero, a man who understood the difference between good and evil. He saw the metal-bender as a diplomatic and reasonable man, only going to extreme lengths if forced to. Now, as he lifted an entire stadium from its roots and planted it around the White House, Peter questioned whether or not Erik had any morals or sanity. He wasn’t doing this to defend himself; he was simply trying to intimidate the government officials in order to highlight his own powers. Peter wasn’t a fan of this version of Erik he was witnessing…Then again, maybe this wasn’t a new version, but rather the real Erik. The silver-haired mutants anger increased exponentially when he remembered his mother, who nearly died because of Erik. There was absolutely no way in hell Peter was going to let Erik get away with this. After all…it was the metal-bender who taught him to defend his values with everything he’s got. Erik was going to pay.

When Peter heard the sound of the guns clicking, time began to slow down. At breakneck speed, his mind created numerous outlines needed to disarm the weapons while simultaneously subdue Erik. As his eyes darted from one section of the stadium to the next, they soon found a discarded purse that was lying amidst the ruins and chairs. He took a deep breath, adjusted his goggles, and ran towards his former mentor.

Erik could feel it -- adrenaline and liberation coursing through his veins. With a flick of his wrists, a world for mutant kind could be born. He moved away from the cameras and turned to look at President Nixon directly in the eye, as if to farewell. This was it. It was only when his wrists moved a fraction that Erik suddenly felt something ram right into his side, sending him onto the grass. As he laid on the ground in a daze, he could feel the guns slowly disappearing from his senses before vanishing altogether. Confused, he forced himself to stand back and found himself staring at-  
“Oh no.”  
Peter, who had completed disarming every single gun before shoving them into a purse and tossing them over the stadium, stood in front of the cabinet. Erik had never seen the boy look so infuriated and defiant. His hands, were which covered in cuts, were clenched while his jaw was set firm. This wasn’t part of the plan. However, he couldn’t afford to let Peter interrupt him, not after everything that had happened to get to this point. Erik shoved feelings of hesitation and concern deep down in him until they were no longer noticeable, and turned into Magneto.

“Quicksilver,” the older mutant addressed.  
“Magneto, what the hell are you doing?”  
“I’m giving our kind a better future-”  
“By antagonizing them and making them appear to be savage monsters hell-bent on dominating the world?” Quicksilver snorted. “I think we would be better off without you.”  
Magneto could feel his impatience and temper rising. “This matter is none of your concern!”  
“None of my concern? You’re planning to execute President Nixon and his entire cabinet, all while antagonizing the race you’re advocating for.” Quicksilver shook his head. “You're not an ally...You're an enemy, and someone needs to stop you.”  
“Quicksilver, stand down!”  
“No.”  
“Please.”  
The silver-haired mutant tilted his head in confusion. Magneto never begged -- during those rare moments he did plea, he would always remain composed, dignified, and balanced. This was different. Now, Magneto’s plea sounded sincere and filled with desperation. Peter looked past Magneto -- he looked past the facade, the arrogance, and the authoritarian attitude -- and saw Erik. He wanted to believe that the man begging him to stand down was Erik, rather than Magneto. He wanted to believe that Erik’s order was to protect him, rather than ensure his wishes to exterminate the entire Presidential administration. For a brief moment, the teenager considered stepping down in order to humor Erik. But then-  
“My mother was here…and you nearly killed her.”

There. That was it. He didn’t need to say anything else. As Erik had hoped (until this moment), Peter never sacrificed his values: his family. He knew Peter would move heaven and Earth to extract vengeance against anyone who dared to harm anyone he cared for. This was no exception. Despite the twenty feet between him and Peter, Erik could feel the hatred and disappointment radiate off of his son, sending a shiver down his own spine. Erik knew that Peter wasn’t going to back out of this fight, not after what he’d done to Marya. The older mutant didn’t want to fight his own son…but what else could he do? Peter was beyond reasoning and diplomacy, leaving Erik with only one solution: fight back. However, as he moved to raise his hand towards Quicksilver, Erik’s eyes traveled behind the teenager to Nixon and his men, who stared at him as if he were a pathetic freak who couldn’t fight a child. Instantly, Erik found himself feeling motivated to combat Quicksilver if it meant that Nixon would die quicker. Magneto wasn’t going to tolerate his son’s stubbornness or self-righteousness. He was going to complete the mission…No exceptions.  

Magneto extended his palm towards Quicksilver and sent thick beams of metal, all which were originally embedded in the concrete from the stadium, towards the younger mutant. He wasn’t necessarily surprised when his weapon met air instead of its target. He turned around only to see a fist right in his field of vision. Sharp but temporary pain consumed his jaw and caused Magneto to stumble, nearly sending him back onto the ground -- all the while, his impatience and rage continued to increase. He regained his composure and looked at a Sentinel, who was patiently awaiting orders from their new master. The metal-bender telepathically turned on the machine and pointed to Quicksilver. In an instant, it began to stride towards the speedster, who positioned himself into a defensive position. The mutant used the same tactic as he had when confronting the first Sentinel. He zipped up to the robot and, using his super-speed, began to disassemble the object. Magneto watched the other mutant move in a blur up and around the machine, hastily dismembering the robot’s wires and other vital parts needed to operate. Erik had reached his breaking point.

Quicksilver, who had finished disarming the machine, turned to run towards the blue figure and-  
_‘Wait… blue figure?’_  
He sprinted towards the creature and found himself staring at an old friend in his true mutant form. “Beast?!” he asked, remembering very well that superhero names -- or now, as he called them, code names -- were created to conceal their true identities.  
“Help me out here!”  
The runner zipped up to stand beside Beast, who was struggling to lift a piece of heavy debris off of- “Professor, what the hell are you doing here?”  
“Hello to you too,” the bloody telepath grunted. “It seems like I’m in a bit of a pickle. Would you mind-”  
He didn’t even complete the sentence before the weight of the stadium slowly removed itself from his body. Charles felt the air come back into his lungs, nearly causing him to faint with relief. He looked above and saw Quicksilver and Beast removing the heavy debris -- despite their combined strength and abilities, the rubbles was too big. They barely managed to create a small gap between the telepath and the rubble.  
“Come on,” Quicksilver grunted, “try to crawl out of there.” When Charles tried to comply, he found himself unable to due to his newfound paralysis. “Professor, use your legs!!”  
“Yeah, about that…”  
Suddenly, without a single warning, thick metal wrapped itself around Quicksilver’s throat before tossing him from the scene. Beast, who had to quickly adjust to the unexpected additional weight, managed to turn his head only to find his friend being dragged by the throat, like an abused dog, towards Magneto.

It happened too fast -- that’s a statement Peter thought he’d never say. One moment, he was assisting Hank in freeing their (former) mentor; the next moment, something cold and metallic wrapped itself around his neck and dragged him towards an unknown destination. No matter how much he struggled, he could not break free from his (figurative) chain. And then, he stopped moving on the ground and was instead lifted from it; the metal whatever was acting like a noose, slowly sucking the life out of him.  
“KID!”  
Through his blurred vision, he could make out the third stranger from before -- _‘Logan!’_ \--  charging towards him, his bone claws appearing from his knuckles. He couldn’t move, even if he wanted to -- every slight movement sent waves of pain through his neck and towards his head. He could feel his vision beginning to slide in and out of focus, while his hearing began to fade. He remembered the cabin in Maine, when the enormous giant grabbed him by the throat and nearly suffocated him to death. The grip he had around the metal began to weaken, resulting in now pathetic swipes. He was ready to drift into unconsciousness when the scene in front of him jolted him back into awareness.  
Magneto, who had sent rubble flying towards Logan, managed to whack the other mutant with a piece of debris from behind, causing him to fall onto his stomach. Then, ever so slowly, wires and poles began to creep from the stadium and into (yes, INTO) Logan’s body, traveling throughout the mutant’s figure and undoubtedly penetrating vital organs. Peter would never forget the scream of pain released by Logan, as well as the look of pride Erik wore on his face. It was like watching a scene from a science fiction or horror flick; it was too surreal.  
“So much for being a survivor,” Magneto stated gravely to Logan.  
Finally, Peter was put out of his misery of witnessing the horrific scene when the other mutant was tossed from the ground and over the stadium, landing who knows where…leaving him alone with Erik. He could feel his body forcibly being shifted in order to face the cameras. Peter felt his blood freeze: he was being exposed as a mutant in front of the entire world. Fuck.  
“Do not test my strength,” Magneto stated to the cameras, pointing to the mutant dangling by his throat, “unless you are willing to endure the consequences this young man is facing.”  
“E-Erik…” Quicksilver gasped out. “St-Stop.”  
Magneto turned to the other mutant before slowly walking towards him. He wore an unreadable look, which only fueled the teenager’s anxiety. Soon enough, Quicksilver found himself staring directly at the older mutant.  
“You should’ve stayed home.”

Before he could create a comeback, Quicksilver was flung backwards with excessive force. He didn’t realize how much distance he’d covered until the back of his head sharply connected with a metal object. He fell onto the ground in a daze, for his mind refused to obey any of the commands given. He laid limp on his side, sluggishly watching the metal unwrap itself from around his neck before retreating towards Magneto. The rush of fresh air overwhelming his body, causing it to burst into coughing fits. He could feel blood trickling from the back of his head and down his neck, with occasional drips being absorbed by the ground beneath him. Despite the amazing sensation of freedom, he had become too weak to move a single muscle. Suddenly, a large metal hand forcible turned him onto his back: he was now directly below a sentinel, who had raised its guns directly at him. He could only watch as the machine’s engines prepared to lay numerous quantities or bullets directly into his body.  
_‘I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m sorry Lorna and Wanda.’_  
Through his blurry vision, he could make out Beast leaping on top of the sentinel in order to disarm it. When the robot’s arm moved to swipe away the mutant, Quicksilver weakly grabbed a hold of the machine’s thick leg in an attempt to distract it. His efforts were rewarded when a metal foot collided with his left side, sending him rolling towards the stadium wall. He connected against the wall with an audible crack before remaining limp. He could feel consciousness slipping from his grasp. The scene in front of him unfolded in flashes: Beast tearing apart wires with his bear teeth; Magneto turning back towards Nixon’s cabinet while a sentinel patiently awaited orders; Beast being tossed through a car windshield; Nixon stepping in front of the group of men; a sentinel ripping off the hood of the car, revealing a frightened Hank in his human form; the same sentinel charging towards Magneto, which resulted in it being torn to shreds; Nixon pulling out a glass gun.  
The last thing Peter heard was the sound of a gunshot echoing throughout the environment. Blackness.

“Kid, can you hear me? Pete, are you there?” Nothing. “Professor, he’s not responding.”  
Peter remained in a dream-like state for a while, embracing a painless and serene state of mind. He didn’t know how long he’d remained in the darkness, but a gentle hand shaking his shoulder slowly coaxed him from unconsciousness to the real world.  
Ignoring the dull but eye-pounding throb evenly beating in his head, Peter cracked his eyes open only to be blinded by the sunlight. However, as if someone had sensed his pain, a blue figure loomed above him and effectively blocked out the sun. The mutant blinked a couple of times, weakling lolling his head to shake out the cobwebs, before he found himself staring at a familiar face that he hadn’t seen in quite some time. It was a woman covered in royal blue scales, with piercing yellow eyes, and fiery red hair.  
“Mys-”  
Peter couldn’t finish his sentence because the dryness and soreness in his throat forced him into a coughing fit. Each cough jolted his body, sending waves of pain in his head and nearly forcing back into the dream world. However, a gentle hand rubbing his back kept him grounded.  
“Yeah, it’s me, kiddo.”  
After swallowing and clearing his throat, Peter gained enough energy to stare up at Mystique with admiration. He smiled at the fact that she was in her mutant form -- he hadn’t seen her true form in a very long time. However, despite the relief and pride clearly written on his face, he opted to break the serious reunion with a wisecrack.  
“Dude…are you naked?” His remark earned him an eyeroll. “I mean, I’m not going to judge, but-”  
“Shut up,” the female warmly replied before extending her blue hand for Peter to take.  
The transition from horizontal to vertical sent nausea through Peter, nearly forcing him onto his knees. However, Mystique had wrapped his arm around her shoulders in an effort to keep him upright. For a few moments, Peter opted to lean against his friend in order to compose himself by swallowing bile and vomit before it erupted from his mouth.  
“What did I miss?”  
“Oh, I just saved the world…”  
Peter smirked. “Never doubted you would,” he replied honestly. “It’s great to see you, again.”  
Mystique could feel a small smile creeping up her face. “Dito.”  
Peter’s eyes traveled from his friend to Charles and Hank, who were both standing on the other side of the stadium. The telepath had his arm wrapped around the student’s neck, nearly mirroring Peter and Raven.  
_“Peter, are you alright?”_  
_“Yeah,”_ he silently replied. _“Are you two okay?”_  
_“Not the worst for wear.”_  
With a relieved sigh, the silver-haired mutant scanned the scene in front of him: the sentinels were either destroyed or shut down, rendering them all useless; Nixon’s cabinet stared at him and Raven in shock; the cameras all turned towards the pair and-  
Erik.

Right in the center of all of the destruction was a helmet-less Erik, who now sported a bloody hole in his neck. He looked defeated, guilty, and devastated. The exhaustion that flowed through Peter drained, and was replaced with rage and disappointment. Everything that transpired today -- the antagonization of mutants, a declaration of war against mankind, Logan’s potential death, his mother’s near-death experience -- was all Erik’s fault. He witnessed the man whom he considered his mentor and hero unveil his true colors. He was a heartless man with zero morals and regards to the well-beings of others, especially those who supported and loved him in return. He didn’t perform this stunt for the mutant race; he did it to fuel his own pride. He didn’t mind hurting the innocent, so long as he rose on top. He was an authoritarian, plain and simple. He was a monster.

He unwrapped his arm from Mystique’s shoulders and zipped over to Erik, ignoring the pain erupting from his body.. He stopped mere inches away from his former mentor and glared at him.  
“Peter-”  
“If I ever see you near my family, I will break your neck,” the other snapped back, effectively shutting Erik up.  
There was little remorse, and zero sarcasm in his tone: he meant every word. Peter looked over Erik’s shoulder to meet Charles’ gaze.  
_“Goodbye, Charles.”_  
The telepath knew that this farewell wasn’t a temporary one, nor was it a light one: once they departed, they weren’t going to see each other ever again. The older mutant empathized with Peter’s desire to hide in anger and shame.  
With a nod, Charles telepathically replied, _“Goodbye, my friend. Please stay safe.”_  
Peter nodded to Charles and Hank before removing his goggles from his head and dropping them at Erik’s feet. He didn’t even stop to notice Erik’s (heartbreaking) reaction: now, all he wanted was to get back to Lorna and Wanda. He zipped up to Mystique and patted his hand against her bicep, silently wishing her farewell too.

Then, Peter did what he’s always done…what he’d been trained to do: he ran. He ran to escape the incoming memories of him and Erik eleven years ago, when he’d viewed Erik as a father. He ran to get away from the metal-bender who single-handled sealed the fate of all mutant-kind. He ran to protect his sisters before they were harmed by Carl, the abusive asshole.  
  
He ran to hide the tears streaming down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more chapter left for the Days of Future Past portion of this story :) It will feature a certain mutant discovering their abilities ;)
> 
> Thank you all for your patience, generosity, feedback, and support! You all make my day, and I'm very honored to write for amazing people like yourselves :D
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Please let me know by writing them down :0)
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


	27. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> Here is the final chapter for the Days of Future Past portion of the story :D It's a little lengthy -- my way of apologizing about the lack of updates. 
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

**01:59AM**

Peter released a long sigh that filled the previously silent space. He leaned back into the wooden chair he’d been sitting in during the last seven hours -- he had only removed himself from the furniture in order to use the bathroom. Usually, sitting still for an extended amount of time seemed was, in Peter’s mind, agony -- time seemed to move exponentially slower more than usual, suspending its inhabitants as if they were engulfed by honey. The world around him moved at a snail’s pace while boredom threatened to consume him. This time, however, the slowness in progress wasn’t due to boredom…but rather fear and impatience. He rubbed his heavy eyes before turning to the prone figure lying on his bed.

Where he normally rested laid a small, feminine figure that remained motionless. She had a cool cloth carefully placed on top of his forehead, attempting to lower small fever that he developed over the course of the evening. Underneath the soft item was a bandage that concealed a small gash which hadn’t even begun to heal. The girl’s fierce green eyes were hidden behind closed eyelids, and hadn’t been reintroduced to the world in over ten hours. Every time Peter looked at his little sister, he was hit with a painful reminder: Lorna wasn’t asleep, but rather unconscious. There’s a big difference.  
As he reflexively reached forward to stroke her hair, Peter found himself remembering the events that he led up to this current moment in time.

 _As Peter sprinted towards his home, towards his siblings, he could feel the injuries he sustained during the stadium confrontation heal. While his hands and head had patched themselves up in record time, his throat still remained bruised and tender. Truth be told, even if his wounds didn’t heal, the intense pain did not go noticed by him: he was fueled by adrenaline, as well as the desire to protect his sisters. Finally, when he came to a halt in front of his home, the first item that crossed his field of vision was a familiar red Ferrari 300 parked in his driveway…_  
_Carl._  
_The front door had been forced open, as indicated by the boot mark that painted the center of the wooden piece. Taking a deep breath, Peter nodded to himself before zipping into his home._

_Peter considered stealth, but adrenaline from his fight against Erik lingered in his veins. “Carl!” he shouted, his voice reverberating throughout the empty building. “I know you’re in here! Come out here!!” When his demand was met with silence, he opted to redirect his attention to two other individuals. “Lorna? Wanda?!” He continued to zip through his home. “Where are you-”  
Suddenly, a loud crash from upstairs caught Peter’s attention: it came from Lorna’s room. Peter was up the wooden platform and inside his little sister’s room in the blink of an eye. _

_The scene in front of him made his blood boil to exceedingly dangerous levels. Wanda was kneeling on the ground, using her abilities to create a shield for herself against the incoming blows coming from Carl. The female mutant made eye-contact with her twin, simultaneously and unintentionally revealing a black eye she’d obtained undoubtedly from the man raining down his fists. Peter could feel his entire body shake in rage; all of his senses dimmed, excluding the thunderous beating of his heart. With a monstrous growl, the teenager flung himself at Carl and forcibly dragged him away from Wanda. In the blink of an eye, he had pinned the human against the wall on the opposite side of the room._  
_“You son of a bitch, don’t you_ ** _ever_ ** _lay your hands on my sister again!!” He didn’t even wait for a response, and instead looked over his shoulder to meet his sister’s gaze. “Are you okay?”_  
_The twin slowly stood up, wincing in the process. When she wrapped her arm around her ribs, Peter instantly knew that the damage inflicted on his sibling extended beyond her face. The thought of Carl kicking his sister fueled his rage._  
_“Go downstairs and clean yourself up, okay? I’ll take it from here.”_  
_Wanda eyed her brother with hesitancy, afraid that the tables would suddenly turn and that Peter would be receiving a beating similar to her own, but opted to obey Peter -- his abilities were different from her own: he had the advantage of speed. With a nod, she slowly walked past the two men and made her way down to the kitchen…leaving two rage-fueled men alone._  
_“If you have a problem with my actions, then take it out on me.”_  
_“I’m not taking orders from a freak, let alone a terrorist sympathizer!” Carl exclaimed back._  
_“The hell are you talking about?!”_  
_“The man on television declared war against humanity…and you opted to negotiate with him.”_  
_“Forgive me if I’m not a trigger-happy maniac like yourself, asshole. I’m guessing you didn’t even stick around for the third act. I wasn’t sympathizing with his cause; I was against it and tried to retaliate against him. Hell, I nearly got killed in the process,” Peter continued as he adjusted his neck so his bruises would be more exposed._  
_“If you were really against him, you would’ve killed him on the spot.”_   
_“You don’t know Eri-Magento like I did. There’s a lot to him that fueled him motivation, but I didn’t let any of that cloud my judgement. I tried to stop him, plain and simple.”_  
_Carl shook his head, shooting Peter an almost pitiful look. “No. There’s more to your relationship with him. What were you to him? What was he to you: a mentor?; a friend?; a lover?”_  
_“Shut your damn mou-”_   
_“A father?” Carl could see Peter’s bravado falter. “There it is. You couldn’t kill him because he still meant something to you…Because you cared for him.”_  
_“Believe me, that’s far from the truth.”_  
_“Is it?”_

_It was, to a certain extent. The positive impact Erik left on Peter would never fade away…no matter how hard he would try to erase it. The memories of their time training together in the field behind the mansion, or of their time sitting on top of  the satellite dish, continually appeared in his line of vision and briefly engulfed his heart: they were the moments that spared Erik’s life in the stadium. While he could still hate the metal-bender, the teenager could never ignore the significant role Erik had in shaping him into the man he is today._

_Suddenly, without a single warning, Carl had grabbed Peter by the throat and slammed his head against the wall. Upon impact, the mutant crumpled to the ground and laid on the wooden surface in a daze. He saw two Carl’s leaning -- correction: the two Carls soon morphed back into the single figure he’s known -- over him, sadistic smiles mocking his vulnerable state, before fists entered his field of vision. The man’s hatred towards mutants culminated to the exact moment: he was going to extract revenge against the teenager who permitted the monster on television to ignite a war._  
_“Suffer from an inferiority complex, are we?” Peter snorted from the ground, blood slowly leaking from his nose._  
_“Do you ever know when to shut up?” Carl snapped._  
_“What the hell is Mom going to say when-”_ _“When what? Do you really think she’d favor your feelings over my own, especially after what you’d done?” Another bone cracking punch. “After today, she won’t ever look at you two the same way again. To her, you’re both freaks ready to turn against her._ _” Punch. “She’ll regret ever bringing monsters into this world.” Punch._  
_Peter refused to retaliate, instead opting to let Carl continually beat him. Why? Because, he refused to let that asshole use his sisters to vent all of the repressed anger that had now reached its climax. The teenager wanted all of Carl’s focus to be on him, rather than Wanda and Lorna._

 _Lights began to abruptly flicker above the pair, distracting the enraged human. Then, bits of furniture began to vibrate -- it reminded Peter of those moment when Erik would briefly lose control of his abilities, resulting in the very foundation of a building shaking. Suddenly, metal wires from nearby lamps and bed posts creeped from their original locations and wrapped themselves around Carl’s wrists, effectively ending his violent reign of terror. The two men’s attention diverted away from each other, and towards the source of the unexpected events. Lorna, who was kneeling form the corner of the room, had both of her palms outstretched. Even from a distance, Peter could detect the determination in his little sister._  
_Then, like a ton of bricks, the realization hit him: Lorna was a mutant._  
_A wave of pride surged through his body, providing him with more adrenaline that had vanished during his beating -- he could feel his senses amplify, identifying the little details that the average human being would miss. It was through this surge of energy that he noticed two significant details: Lorna looked extremely pale, and her nose was bleeding pretty badly. Peter deducted that her abilities were putting a serious strain on her health. Lorna, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to the side effects. All of her attention was on her brother._  
_“L-Leave him alone,” she demanded, her voice weaker than Peter would’ve like it._  
_“Lo, it’s okay,” Peter quickly responded. “Everything is going to be okay, kiddo. Just…calm down, okay?”_  
_The little girl refused to obey her big brother, at least for the time being. It then came across Peter’s mind that maybe, just maybe, Lorna wasn’t even aware of her actions…or of her mutation. He couldn’t stop Lorna because she didn’t even know what she was doing._  
_Turning his attention back to Carl, the teenager could feel rage and disbelief radiate through his body. Slowly, he stood up and began to slowly advance towards the little girl, whose strength was beginning to fade. When Peter tried to sit up, Carl sent a vicious kick to his stomach, forcing the wind out of him and prompting him to reflexively curl in on himself. He helplessly watched the asshole move towards Lorna,  the wires effectively slowing him down._  
_“You are all freaks!”_  
_Then, much to Peter’s absolute horror, Carl had managed to completely free himself from his bindings and stomped towards his little sister. He watched the other man brutally kick Lorna right in the head, causing it to forcefully collide with a dresser. In slow motion, Peter witnessed his sister crumple to the ground, unconscious._  
_His vision went red._

Truthfully, he didn’t remember much after Carl had hurt Lorna -- it was almost as if he’d blacked out himself. He remembered shoving all of the lingering pain down and zipping up to Carl to violently pull him away from his sister. He recalled sending the other man onto the ground, reversing their roles moments earlier. He remembered throwing brutal punched at Carl’s face, which, from time to time, alternated to Erik’s face…and even his own. It was the first time Peter felt the urge to kill another being -- _‘This is what Erik must’ve felt like.’_

 _“Peter, what are you doing?!”_  
_He couldn’t hear the frightened voice from the hallway -- the ringing in his ears completely overpowered any other sounds. His knuckles had, once again, become a bloody mess; some of the blood was Carl’s, but most of it was his own. Before he could land another, potentially life-altering blow to the man’s face, pink energy engulfed his raised fist and effectively halted any further movement. From behind him, Wanda had ignited her own abilities and forced her twin to cease his beating. Peter was so lost in his own rage that when he turned to face the person responsible for ending his raid, all that remained in his dark irises was pure hatred and fury; he looked like a rogue beast._  
_“P-Pete?” Wanda asked, her voice wavering at the sight of her twin._  
_The mutant quickly forced himself to calm his mind, especially when his other sister was only trying to protect him. He forced himself to take slow, even breaths before slowly removing himself from above Carl, whose face looked almost completely different disfigured. He panted as he wiped the blood from his knuckles onto his jeans. Eventually, when he was sure that he had regained control over his emotions, Peter grabbed a hold of Carl’s limp form and ran, with all of his speed, to the police station. He dropped off the human at the doorstep of the cops, leaving a small note that proclaimed, “I abuse children!” In the blink of an eye, he returned back to his home and ran up towards Lorna, who hadn’t moved a muscle._

 _“Lo,” he whispered as he knelt down onto the ground. “Lorna, can you hear me?”_  
_When he received no reply, he gathered his sister’s limp form into his arms and cradled her to his chest. He looked down and saw blood trickle down from the gash on her head, as well as from her nose. He could feel heat radiate from her body, like a furnace. He continued to hold his little sister in his arms, even as Wanda approached the scene. She knelt down on the other side and placed a gentle hand onto Lorna’s forehead. Pink energy appeared from the palm of her hand and soon engulfed the girl’s head. Eventually, after a few minutes of silence, Wanda removed her hand and looked at Peter._  
_“Is she okay?”_  
_“She’ll be fine; she has a small concussion, but it's nothing too severe.”_   
_“She’s a mutant, Wanda,” Peter informed, much to the other’s surprise._  
_“Wh-What? Are you sure?”_   
_“She saved my life,” he continued, pressing a small kiss to Lorna’s head. “Carl was whooping my ass, and Lo levitated metal to prevent him from hurting me further.” Peter closed his eyes in shame. “I shouldn’t have opened my mouth, not when Carl was over-the-edge. I only made him madder…It’s all my fault.”_  
_Wanda placed a comforting hand on her brother’s shoulder. “None of this was your fault! It wasn’t any of our fault! It was that monster on television; he’s the reason Carl lost it. He’s the reason…we’re called freaks, and now enemies.”_  
_Peter could feel anger begin to revive itself, but he quickly extinguished it.“Still, Lo shouldn’t have suffered any of the consequences…not when she’s this young.”_  
_“She’s exhausted. Give her time to recover, and she’ll eventually wake up when she’s ready. Remember when I discovered my abilities?”Peter did. He remembered being nine years old, playing with Wanda in their backyard. He remembered the rocks below their feet slowly bring on a pink shade before levitating into the air. That single act wiped out almost all of her energy, forcing her to bed for a few days. Wanda, and now Lorna, have abilities that relied on mental strength -- Peter’s was more physical. There was a reason why Peter’s introduction to his abilities didn’t take much toll on his overall health._

 _“Mom’s at MedStar Washington Hospital Center. You should check up on her. I’ll stay with Lorna."_  
_“Are you sure?”_  
_“I can’t be out in public…Not after what I’d done on television.”_  
_“You stood up against that monster!”_  
_“They won’t care; not anymore. They’ll see me as a sympathizer, or as an accomplice. I’m nothing to them but a freak…a monster. You and Lorna still have a chance, though. Don’t waste it.” When Wanda shook her head, Peter placed his hand over Wanda’s own. “Tell Mom that I’m sorry…for everything.”_  
_Eventually, despite the hesitation, Wanda forced herself to comply with Peter’s wishes. She bent down and placed a kiss onto her sister’s head before placed another on Peter’s cheek. “Please be careful, Pete. I don’t want to lose you.”_  
_“I’m not going anywhere,” the twin replied with a small smile._  
_Wanda smiled before heading down stairs towards the car Peter had “borrowed.” When the sound of the engine faded into the distance, Peter chose that moment to scoop Lorna’s unconscious form into his arms, cradling her close to his chest. He proceeded to slowly walk down to his own room, where they would be safe from outside forces that dared to harm her._

Now, nearly ten hours later, Peter continued to hold his vigil over Lorna.

His tired mind struggled to conjure up different ways he would break the news to his little sister once she woke up. He didn’t know how he would inform her of her mutation, especially after Erik’s stunt on national television. Being a mutant, to Peter, was both a blessing and a curse: while there was a biological advantage that placed them above the average homo-sapien, there came persecution and discrimination. They would never truly assimilate, no matter how hard they tried. However, mutants could still learn to harmonize with different species: it wasn’t impossible to unite the two communities. Now, after Erik’s speech, all bridges have been burned to the ground. Mutants were now seen as monsters, weapons capable of endangering all of humanity. They were seen as a community who threatens Nationalism and normality -- as if their intention was to become the majority. They were now seen as enemies, never friends or allies. It pained Peter to realize that Lorna would not grow up the safer environment he’d grown up in. Sure, there were bullies and occasional threats, but never had anyone threatened to harm his family. Erik’s actions permitted humanity to retaliate against mutants, and to use “self defense” to justify their actions. Lorna was in more danger than she would’ve been eleven years ago.  
And it was all Erik’s fault.

“Pe?”  
The older mutant snapped his head to his bed, where Lorna was beginning to come to. “Yeah kiddo,” he whispered as he continued to stroke his sister’s hair, “it’s me.”  
Eventually, the little girl’s eyes came into focus and sluggishly found Peter’s own. “My head hurts.”  
“I’m sorry. Hopefully, it will be better by tomorrow.”  
“Wh-What happened?”  
“Carl hurt you, so I-”  
“Not that. What did I do? Why did those objects move when I was scared?”  
Peter took a deep breath. “Lo, I think you may be a mutant.”  
“What’s a mutant?”  
“A person with superhuman abilities. They have cool powers that not many others do.”  
“Like that man on television?”  
“Yeah…Like him.”  
Suddenly, tears began to slowly travel down the side of her head. “I-I don’t want to be like him.”  
Peter tried to lighten up the mood by replying, “Hey, Wanda and I are mutants too. Don’t you want to be like us?”  
“No! I don’t want to be mean like him. I don’t want to hurt people!!”  
“Lorna-”  
At this point, the little girl had begin to cry. Peter instantly crawled into the bed and laid right beside his little sister. He could feel the smaller figure press her body against his own, desperately trying to absorb all of his comfort and love his presence provided her. The teenager wrapped his arms around Lorna and pulled her close, whispering words of reassurance in the process.  
“It’s okay, Lorna. I promise that you won’t ever be like Er-that man. You’re already a good person, so you have an advantage over him.”  
“Why did he do that on television?”  
Peter looked down at his sister and wiped a couple of tears from her cheeks. “He was upset and angry…and hurt. A lot of bad stuff happened to him, so he wanted to get revenge against those who hurt him. That doesn’t excuse him, though; he shouldn’t have done what he did. He was trying to be the good guy, but he ended up hurting a lot more people than he realized,” he concluded, unconsciously tightening his hold on his sister.  
“He hurt you.”  
“Hey now, it wasn’t so bad -- I threw in a couple of punches too. Besides, my mutation gives me accelerated healing; I'm already feeling better. See?" He watched Lorna's eyes slowly scan his face, attempting to find any marks that would contradict his claim. "You, on the other hand, don’t have that power. Get some rest, Lo. I’ll be here when you wake up.”  
“Am I going to be like him?”  
“Never. Do you want to know why? ‘Cause you have an awesome older brother and sister who will do everything in their power to keep you on the good side.”  
He could see Lorna processing the claim, but had one final question. “What if you become like him?”

In recent hours, the closest Peter has ever been to matching Erik’s personality was when he had nearly killed Carl. During those crucial moments, he hadn’t even considered the consequences his actions would bring upon his family -- he had already placed them into enough danger. He didn’t care about his mother’s happiness, nor about Wanda’s own view of her brother: he just wanted Carl to suffer. At the stadium, Erik didn’t even flinch as he (most likely) killed Logan and nearly strangled a teenager to death. He didn’t care about their (previously) meaningful relationship, or about the other mutants he would eventually endanger: he just wanted to extract justice, in the most cruel and public manner. Those two instances were far too similar for Peter’s liking.

Unlike Erik, Peter had moral boundaries that he refused to cross: he did not ever purposefully harm any innocent individual with his abilities; he did not ever kill anyone, even if they threatened his family; he would never use his emotions to justify any unprecedented actions, but rather own up to his mistakes. Erik used events from the past to justify what he did in the present; that was explanation, but never an excuse. Erik believed that those who opposed him, even those who were once close friends and allies, were expendable and nothing more -- their own opinions and perspectives were not deemed as worthy or important, especially when it came to the overall picture.

Peter wanted to pick his own battles; ones that would align with his values but not endanger innocent lives. He wanted to be an honorable man; someone who would own up to his mistakes without hesitation. He wanted to be someone who would not be blinded by the painful moments of their past -- Carl and the bullies, who have dictated his life for years, were no longer important -- and who would not extract revenge of any kind. He wanted to be a man who had morals, boundaries, awareness, and empathy. He wanted to be better than Erik.

With a heavy sigh, Peter answered, “I promise, with all of my heart, that I will not be like him.”  
Satisfied with her big brother’s promise, Lorna quickly faded, drifting off into much-needed rest. Peter, on the other hand, stayed up all night, holding his sister as if she were his anchor. He found himself repeating a mantra as if it were a Bible verse -- something of great importance that would guide him from here on out.  
“I will never be like Erik, and I won’t let you become him either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's it for part 2! The Apocalypse portion will come up soon!!
> 
> Side Note: I did edit a couple of sections of the DOFP portion. I wanted Lorna to discover her abilities at the end, rather than having them pre-exist. I think it would've helped Peter truly understand the severity of Erik's actions not only on the mutant race, but also on his family -- how could he raise his sister in a world that will forever antagonist her kind?
> 
> Reflecting on feedback, I will make the horsemen more interesting (and not possessed lol). It would be interesting to explore the reasons the horsemen decide to collaborate with a God, and to be very aware of the consequences of their actions. 
> 
> I am also going to explore Peter's views of Erik -- they are definitely intense, but I want to highlight the "problems" with his perspectives, as well as how they somewhat contradict who he wants to be as an individual too.
> 
> You all are amazing followers!! I can't even articulate what all of the feedback, comments, and kudos mean <3 I'm very honored to have viewers and/or followers like yourselves: thank you for your patience and support *hugs*
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Please let me know and write them down :0) I enjoy reading comments and feedback! They always help improve my writing.
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)
> 
> P.S: While I already have two horsemen written out -- I'm just going to "spoil" one of them for reference: Mystique -- is there any mutant you all would like to see as a horsemen? Mystique and two surprise mutants will be two central horsemen to this story, but I'd be down to take requests for other mutants you all want to see destroy the world :D  
> *Peter, Erik, and Charles are, unfortunately, not going to be horsemen. Just an FYI :)


	28. Chapter 27 (Circa 2900 B.C)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :0)
> 
> First and foremost, I'm SO damn sorry for leaving many of you all hanging. It has been an extremely busy last few months, and I could not find the proper time to continue the story. Also, I'll admit that I had severe writer's block; I didn't know how to begin the Apocalypse portion of the series. Then, last night, it hit me: Why don't you begin with a section of Apocalypse's origin story!*
> 
> Thank you all so much for your kindness, patience, and support! It means the world to me, and I hope that this chapter does not disappoint. 
> 
> Warning: Grammatical/Spelling errors and possibly slight OOC-ness!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER HEAVILY BORROWS FROM TERRY KAVANAGH'S "RISE OF APOCALYPSE" (1996) SERIES!! ALL CREDIT GOES TO HIM!!

**(Egypt, circa 2900 B.C)**

Far below the carnage, in the sacred city the Sandstormers call the House of Sands, the carnivorous remnants of a time-traveling vessel that came from the far-flung future carrying Rama-Tut. The old man Baal does not suspect that the Sandstormers -- those he led -- lay dead above him: Nor, at the point, would he care. His dying, shuddering body barely acknowledges his crushed legs or burnt eyes. He cares only for the survival of his adopted son, En Sabah Nur -- The strange-looking outcast, he found as a babe, abandoned in in the desert. Against the wishes of his tribe, Baal took in the boy, cared for and trained him…For a relic found in this very structure -- The Eye of the Ages -- hinted at a powerful destiny for the youth. Baal will sacrifice all to ensure Nur lives to realize his full potential: to destroy the hated pharaoh!

“SON!” Baal of the Crimson Sands, former leader of the Sandstormers, shouted in horror. “NO!”  
In front of him, crushed underneath an enormous boulder that had once rested above the Earth, laid En Sabah Nur. His grey, almost metallic arm remained above the rubble, sticking amidst ruins -- the scene could be viewed as a flag placed in an quiet but bloody battlefield, serving as a reminder of the victors, survivors, and conquerors. Immediately, the wounded father scurried over towards the exposed limb and fell onto his knees in order to comfort the injured son.  
“No…It can’t end now…I refuse to let it.”  
“Father…” the seventeen year-old gasped in between coughs and grunts, “I think I’m dying. You…always taught me of survival of the fittest: Well, nature has tested me…and I have failed. I don’t know why the pharaoh fears me -- how even he knows of my existence -- but it appears that he has succeeded in ending whatever threat I posed.”  
“Son, you must live. You still don’t understand, do you? You are the strong! You must be the whip that feels Rama-Tut.”  
“I-” En Sabah Nur had to pause, allowing labored breaths and bloody coughs to make their presence known. “was to be a saviour then? Heh; a saviour hated and feared by his own people. I tell you, father, our kingsman despise me as much as they do the pharaoh.”  
“Hush, you are delirious with pain. Waste no thoughts on the concerns of weaklings!”  
“But-”  
“Be still -- the blood is still in your lungs.”

**(Hours Later)**

Later, father and son remained buried under the mass grave of soldiers. As minutes stretched into hours, the wounds En Sabah Nur began to heal on their own accord, much to Baal’s satisfaction and fascination.  
“The hours pass slow now, at the end. The bleeding is stopped; The broken bones set: You should not be alive, and yet you are. Perhaps there is a hope.” As Baal bandaged Nur’s remaining wounds, he continued his speech. “We have always lived in the tribe by survival of the fittest; it is the only thing that kept us from oblivion in this cruel world, and now it claims us both if I can’t get you out of here. In this tomb far greater and fearsome than the pyramids of the pharaoh’s, the hopes of The People of the Sands may die: then, pharaoh Rama-Tut will succeed and be like unto a God, for he shall have crushed us to dust and scattered us back to the sands we came from. This cannot be allowed!”  
“It won’t be,” En Sabah Nur replied, as his strength returned to his battered body.

The boy -- a man who wore skins as grey as ashes, raven hair as black as the night sky, and muscles as thick as stone -- slowly emerged from where he laid for hours on end. As did his body, Nur’s voice slowly acquired newfound strength that only contributed to his already fearful appearance. As the boy spoke, his eyes held a more…deadly and pasty color: he looked like a demon spawned from hell.  
“It won’t be. Even now, sir, I feel a stirring inside me.” He rose onto his feet, finally reclaiming his seven-foot stance. “I have seen the cryptic visions of The Eyes of the Ages. No more shall I be whipped and hunted. We will no longer have to run father. We shall rule, and pharaoh shall tremble.” En Sabah Nur released a smile that exposed his sharp, white teeth that would make the Gods quiver in fear. “Only the fit will survive my arrival!”

**(One Week Later)**

As Ozymandias, a warlord and server of Pharaoh Rama-Tut, paraded around streets of Egypt in order to boast of his victory against the Sandstormer and the killing of En Sabah Nur, father and son slowly trekked through passages beneath the desert, in search for an escape. However, time and time again, the pair would reach dead ends. It has been one full week since they had ended up underneath the desert, alone and weak. However, one male appeared to hold more strengthen than the other, despite a week of starvation and thirst.

“We have been searching these passages for a week “with no food or water,” En Sabah Nur claimed, all while supporting a weakened Baal. “We will soon die if we don’t find the surface.”  
“The cave-ins have buried the path out,” Ball pointed out. “We need to find another route out…There should be one around this bend.”  
When they had turned the corner, they were met with another dead end: however, unlike previous duds, the wall that blocked their path contained a massive engraving of a man slaughtering a cattle. To their right, hidden well within the shadows, rested a broken carving of a mysterious figure who undoubtedly held authority once long ago.  
“Nothing,” Baal sighed in defeat. “Another dead end.”  
En Sabah Nur could feel his patience thinning. “All this is a dead end, father!” He picked up a piece of rubble from the ground. “If I could, I would rend the Earth,” he continued as he hurled the object, with all of his force, against the wall, “and Egypt would-- What’s that?!”

When the rock had met its target, it had shattered the wall and revealed technology far too advanced. There was a computer screen, buttons with an assortment of purposes, and other contemporary gadgets that would easily overpower the primitive weapons used for combat. It could wipe out the entire world. While the younger man stared in confusion, a look of familiarity washed over the elder man. The technology in front of them was used by an all-too familiar enemy with a damning agenda.  
“This is the secret of what makes a pharaoh a god and why man bows down to him,” Baal explained, “and it holds the key to your future. The sphinx, guardian of Egypt, they say fell from the sky -- a portent of the gods coming back to rule. A weak-minded notion. I saw that vessel fall to the Earth, and only our people saw the burning fragment that broke from it. Inside the jewel was man garbed weird and wondrous. Broken and blind, we brought him back to our camps. You must be able to recognize when something powerful approaches on the horizon, son; Survival depends on this. For weeks, we tended to his wounds -- he would have died if not for our charity. This man…This traveler…I named Rama-Tut -- the Visitor from Beyond the Sun. One morning, we awakened to find that he had wandered away during the night, taking with him the strange objects we had found in his vessel, his footsteps fading towards the Pharaoh’s land. Weeks later, he returned, his sight restored, wielding strange weaponry and commanding Egypt’s army. Tut demanded to know where his jewel lay. This we never revealed to him, even when he massacred our people and enslaved most of the survivors. He thought us crushed, but I had found The Eye of Ages…and in it, I saw the face of a man powerful enough to defeat him. A man looking over thousand of worshippers, the ruler of all the world. It was you, En Sabah Nur! Whatever place Tut had come from, he knew of you and will use all of the power of his kingdom to take you.”

**(Later)**

In the City of the Kings, Pharaoh Rama-Tut had enslaved millions of individuals. Through hot days and cold nights, his warlord, Ozymandias, oversaw the construction of tombs that would remind everyone, who witnessed and built them, of his master’s authority and legacy. Ozymandias himself enjoyed torturing and humiliating those he deemed “below him.” He whipped, beat, and executed innocent laborers without any justification; in some ways, it was a method to paint himself as a god. However, little did he know that many of the slaves prayed of the day he and Pharaoh Rama-Tut were overthrown by a man…by a god more powerful than all of the others.

In the Badlands, En Sabah Nur and Baal continued their journey throughout the passages. While Nur’s strength still remained stable, the other’s was beginning to fade away…forever.  
“I fear our time together nears its end,” the older man stated gravely. “Soon, I must lie down…and forever will I sleep.”  
The teenager, who had become more masculine during their weeks under the surface, turned to his mentor. “Don’t speak of death, father.” He moved to bow before the dying man. “I wouldn’t have lived past infancy if you had not saved me. I won’t let you-”  
Before he could continue, a wrinkled hand grabbed ahold of his long raven hair and forcibly pulled the teenager back into a standing position. “Please, Son. Do not make this more difficult than it has to be. This is the way of things. You are strong, in more ways than one. Somehow, your strange body staved off Death!” He grabbed ahold of his son’s hand, and gently pulled the other towards him. “Just…a bit farther now.”

**(Soon)**

The pair’s journey came to an end in front of a column covered in hieroglyphics.

“Look -- About us are signs of how special you really are, of the glory that awaits you,” Baal explained as he ran his hand over the engravings. “Read from these hieroglyphics, as I did years ago. ‘From the sands he comes. Neither god nor man. Kingdoms bow at his feet and mankind weeps in his presence. He is En Sabah Nur, The First One.’ You are to be my weapon against Pharaoh -- My hope for tomorrow!” Baal exclaimed.  
Despite being envisioned as an omnipotent figure, Nur was conflicted by the expectations set by Baal and the prophets…and its contrast against his reality, where he’s been painted as a monster since childbirth. “You keep telling me of grand destinies and prophecy carved in stone. LOOK AT ME!” he proclaimed while presenting his abnormal figure for audiences to witness: his ash-like skin, muscular figure, blue lips, pasty eyes, and raven hair were viewed as a curse by everyone…including him. “Not with the eyes of a parent, but with those of a stranger. What cruel joke has Nature played here? WHY WAS I BORN AS THIS?!”  
Baal was unphased by his son’s outburst, and instead opted to comfort the other. “What is…is, Nur. We must take harsh measure Nature gives us…and preserve. Life is a test -- and thus, I raised you…And thus, I leave you.” The older man’s strength began to fade at a much faster pase. “Take this scarab -- a fertile omen in this barren tomb.” He placed the element onto his son’s hand. “Take its sustenance; Let it give you the strength to carry on. Now…I must rest.”  
Instinctively, Nur attempted to place the scarab back into his mentor’s, his father’s, hand. “NO! Sire, you take the-”  
“Child, can’t you see?” Baal’s strength faded completely and he collapsed backwards from where he stood, only to be caught by his son. “I am weak now,” he muttered, looking up at Nur with such pride and hope, “and the weak must never burden the strong. Seek…out the sphinx. Hidden wonders lie there…” With his last breath, Baal made a final plea. “Fulfill…your…destiny.”

Finally, the gods mercifully concluded Baal’s life, sparing him of the physical pain…and the emotional pain of being a burden to his son, the true god. Still, En Sabah Nur could not accept his father’s passing. Baal had been the only figure in his life who saw potential, who viewed him beyond his physicality. He saw En Sabah Nur as a human being, capable of anything he set his mind to. Alone, with no one else left, the man began to weep.  
“Father! Father, don’t leave me…alone. Couldn’t you see? It wasn’t the teachings -- it wasn’t the combat or training with our people -- all that mattered to me was you. You were the only person in this world who showed me kindness, mercy, and this is how you were rewarded: murdered by Pharaoh! Nature took my family…destiny took my life’s path…Tut’s wrath took you. There are no others like me in this world. Now, I have nothing.” Suddenly, before he gave into despair, Nur felt a surge of determination that soon overpowered grief and despondency. “Except what you taught me,” he continued with newfound strength. “This test -- this battle to live -- this fight I shall win!” He bowed his head in disappointment. “I have only the fallen statues of false gods to witness this oath.” He raised his outstretched palm to his lips and drank. “I drink this scarab's blood to live, so that Pharaoh may choke on his own blood for what he has done; So that men might be crushed if they try to withstand my mighty hand as they tried to extinguish me.” The man stood from where he’d previously knelt, looked up at the ruins and stones that blocked him from his destiny, and began to tear himself a new pathway to freedom. “I become my own prophecy, my own God! Unstoppable. Never dying. I am what I was fated to be: this hope of tomorrow! Father,” he continued as he paved his way out of the grave, “here I bury you. Forgotten by all eternity, except by that human part of me I leave here dead by your side. NOW, I CLAIM MY DESTINY!”

En Sabah Nur, once a boy defined by rejection and exploitation, was determined to escape the hellhole in order to create his own destiny -- one fueled by vengeance, pity, determination, and rage. As the days moved forward, and as the people above began to forget of his existence, the man refused to end his quest. He dug and dug upward, driven to see the day of light…Determined to witness Rama-Tut’s blood paint his hand.

“So many days,” Nur observed to himself. “The Earth itself rises against me, but I am stronger: the body does not die. This will not be crushed like a man’s. My wrath is eternal…and I will not be denied.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER HEAVILY BORROWS FROM TERRY KAVANAGH'S "RISE OF APOCALYPSE" (1996) SERIES!! ALL CREDIT GOES TO HIM!! By the way, I HIGHLY recommend this series to anyone who wants a better origin story than the one given to us in the film adaptation -- You can actually sympathize with En Sabah Nur, and understand where his hatred comes from.
> 
> From here on out, the remaining chapters will be set in the 1980s (unless there is a flashback to En Sabah Nur's origins) :0) There, I hope to establish a horseman's origins -- why they decided to join forces with Apocalypse -- and reintroduce you all to familiar faces ;)
> 
> Thank you all for the support, patience, and feedback <3 I am extremely grateful for all of your love, and I do not plan on letting you all down. Please stay safe, and please be kind to one-another :0)
> 
> Questions/Comments/Concerns/Insults/Thoughts of love?? Please let me know and write them down :0) I enjoy reading comments and feedback! They always help improve my writing.
> 
> Take Care and Party Hard :0)


End file.
